Daily Life in the Royal Archives
by sadang91
Summary: Tyro receives new Hero Records, 'Cosmos and Chaos' from a Dissidia Event. Learn how all of the Hero Records have acclimated to their surroundings. Expect many character-study vignettes with headcanon, lore trivia, and game meta. Mostly canon ships, and no OCs.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _Dissidia Event Dungeon  
_

A cool breeze wafted around the lionhearted youth in black. It was serene, invigorating Squall for the trial ahead despite the disheartening expanse of stormy dark void in the skyline above. As he waited for his opponent to appear, he thought of Rinoa, back in the Royal Archives. She was likely outside of the dungeon somewhere, waiting for his return. Perhaps she was chatting with one of her new friends, playing with Angelo, or... just taking a nap. Though many of the other hero records here were homesick, Rinoa was one of the people who took her placement here in _stride_. It was almost as though it didn't affect her at all.

Squall thought of her smile, slight and small, but warm. He thought of her slender shoulders and arms, the way they would lift and open when she invited (pressured) him for an embrace. And he thought of the way her vibrant personality shone amidst the dark; much like her gleaming eyes, shrewd yet stubborn. The corner of Squall's mouth almost curled into a barely-visible grin.

Much of his romantic side was extremely private. And even when it was only the two of them, she would really have to wrest the truth from his stonewalled thoughts. It was probably troublesome dating a guy like him, but Rinoa didn't seem to mind the challenge, and Squall was secretly grateful for this. He knew his attitude was hard to deal with.

He awakened from his thoughts to clinking armor and slow, heavy footsteps. Squall knew the boss was here. His fingers curled around the hilt of his weapon, his gloves lightly squeaking under his grip. Atop a tourmaline platform of the Crystal World, he stood. It was an arena from Zidane's realm. Squall recognized that he had been here before, when he was still under the thumb of Cosmos.

"I have only _one_ goal. I won't allow for distractions," Squall recited. He was repeating the same line from that day, so long ago. Squall reminisced upon this spar; ready to re-enact it; ready to _win_ it, just as before. Even if these records were just some storybook; he was willing to enact his part in this play.

Across from him, the Warrior of Light raised his sword, the Braveheart. It wasn't truly the Warrior, of course. It was just a record of a previous fight; just a boss battle against a _memory_.

But that didn't matter if it wasn't real; Squall was facing him alone, so he thought this wouldn't be a cakewalk. In reality, when this fight happened during the 13th Cycle of the Conflict of the Gods, it was supposed to be just between the Warrior of Light and Squall. And so, Tyro felt it only fitting to pick out Squall and send him into this as a solo battle. Though, the boy was sure to watch from the outside with childish delight.

"Can you carve out your path- without the help of others?" the memory of the Warrior of Light demanded, "Have you no trust in your ally?"

"I don't need to be lectured by you," Squall responded coldly, the scripted words rolled off the tongue. He barely even remembered what the issue was. Back then, the Warrior of Light was quite blindly devoted to Cosmos. Without caring about the context, Squall raised his gunblade, and his eyes burned with a fire to fight.

It began without warning. The two fighters didn't need a starting signal; they rushed at each other with a suddenness that knew no dramatic pause. With heavy strides, Squall's boots thudded against the crystal floor, charging ahead without fear. Fighting was what he was _born_ for. And the Warrior of Light too, began his assault.

In only a short moment, the distance between them was gone. With a clang, they clashed. Gunblade against sword, Squall pushed the heavy knight a little backward.

Even alone, Squall had the advantage. He may not have been a mythical knight, but he was an _expert_ at swordsmanship. Many underestimated him for his age, but there were few more adept and dexterous with a blade than he in the entire Archives. And the Warrior of Light's movements almost seemed _slow_ by comparison.

Squall knew he could still overwhelm the boss with brute force. He wasn't taking this completely seriously. There was no one to cast Protect on him, and no one to heal him. He had brought Drain Strike, just in case; but it seemed like he may not even need it. The "real" Warrior of Light (who was likely watching this fight with a small feeling of nostalgia) had become much stronger than he was during this old memory.

Squall unleashed a Mystic Flurry on the opponent before him. The Warrior of Light was sluggish under the onslaught of frigid blasts. As Squall swung, frost crackled from the end of Squall's blade, and swirled around the SeeD, endowing him with an icy chill.

Taking a moment for a wind-up, the Warrior of Light released a Shining Wave that headed straight for the mercenary, chasing him as Squall strafed to avoid it. Seeing no other option, he took the full force of the hit, head-on. Under the light, Squall felt a light burn on the entirety of his skin, but mostly, the blast of force. Still, without flinching, he continued his charge forward, through the light, and slashed at the knight with four quick driving movements.

Even if that _Snowspell Strike_ wasn't enough to finish the job, Squall would continue to barrage the opponent in front of him with more and more swings of his gunblade. And in no time at all, the fight was over; the Warrior of Light crumpled down onto one knee. Then, the memory faded away, leaving the real hero record standing tall.

Squall remembered that back when it first actually happened, the fight was much more evenly matched. He considered going to the real Warrior of Light and reminding him of this duel (now that he remembered). If he wasn't so restrained when it came to communicating with others, he would've wanted to remind the Warrior of the words they spoke afterward.

'I haven't forgotten," Squall thought, 'None of us are alone.'

Squall knew why _he_ wasn't homesick. He had a mission. His duty was to clear the darkness from corrupting his realm, sure. But he felt his _true_ duty was to watch over Rinoa. Watch over his comrades. He was a commander, a warrior, a _guardian_. His family was here.

With eyes closed for a moment, Squall took a deep breath. Then, he turned and headed for the exit to the dungeon floor. With a step through the door into the light, he was outside of the painting; his torso and legs coming out of the solid mural as if through liquid.

Outside, Squall was face-to-face with a grinning Tyro. The boy had been rushing to clear all the floors from the recent Dissidia warp and get as much Mythril as possible. But this didn't mean he couldn't have some _fun_ with it. He was glad that it wasn't a waste of his energy, too. He was _exhausted_. Regardless, there was still a week left to finish before the event warp disappeared forever. Tyro was certain he would finish in time; just not tonight. And with that, he and Squall exited the ever-changing hall of Event Dungeons.

The mercenary commander was a little perturbed that Tyro would risk the loss of stamina over a solo challenge (Tyro was already barely standing as it is). To Squall, there was little more important than the mission. But at the same time, the SeeD couldn't help but revel in his victory, just a bit. It was a personal fight, and not too demanding of a challenge. So, he kept his complaints to himself. As Squall and Tyro were both heading in the same direction, they walked together in silence.

Once again, Squall was left to his thoughts. On rare occasions, Cosmos' Chosen would all reunite and discuss current events; like new recruits or current dungeons. In-name, this was exactly the sort of thing that Squall could still be interested in. However, a few records (namely Zidane, Tidus, and Bartz) used much of this time to goof around.

For instance, Zidane was _annoyingly_ open about his sex life to the other men (probably much to Garnet's chagrin). And worse, Zidane would pry into the bedroom affairs of the other heroes. Most of the other overly-chivalrous and antiquated records that were in attendance were too polite to tell the _morons_ not to deviate too far from the focal points of discussion. That is, other than Cloud and Squall, who had no reluctance in telling anyone to _shut up_ when they needed to.

So, Zidane normally waited until the end of their meetings. Still, since he brought up the subject matter at all, Squall couldn't help but ponder the connection between sensuality and romance within _his own_ relationship more often.

Now, Squall was no _prude_ , but he had _zero_ desire to discuss such things to his peers. Unfortunately for Squall, this didn't work both ways. _He_ was the 'Garnet' in his relationship, while Rinoa was apparently fairly _chatty_ about salacious details with the other girls. This, was something Squall found pretty embarrassing (possibly mortifying). But he supposed it was inevitable; Rinoa was one of the youngest women in most of her friend groups, and probably looked to the older girls for both wisdom and approval.

Right then, Squall and Tyro reached the campground. The mercenary hadn't intended to be quiet the entire way. He had _some_ respect for the little Record Keeper, and didn't intend on hurting the boy's feelings. However, Tyro too was abnormally somber, and didn't seem to take much notice of Squall either (the boy was quite used to standoffish hero records by now). Rather, during the silence, Tyro was lost in thought. This wasn't the norm.

From here, Squall would need to walk a ways west to get to his and Rinoa's shared tent. And Tyro would need to head north toward the archives. With a tired smile, Tyro looked up at Squall and gave him a pat on the leg (unable to reach the man's back) and then the two went their separate ways. Little did Tyro know that he had an ordeal waiting for him around the corner.

* * *

 _Hey all!_ _Not sure what genres I should place this as (Since I feel it has elements of Humor, Family, Suspense, Fantasy, Adventure, and Romance), or what content rating I'm supposed to place this as since I've increased the mature content._ _Let me know what you think about anything in the reviews!_

 _Update: I realized the story was a bit slow in the beginning, with a lot of day-to-day reminiscing, idle pondering, and slice-of-life conversations. So, I placed a fighting prologue here and juiced up the next couple of chapters.  
_

 _I'm expecting to reach around thirty chapters before the story ends. Follow or favorite to let me know I gotta keep updating!  
_


	2. Grating

**Grating**

 _Outside the Atrium_

"Tyro!" Dr. Mog called, "Tyro my boy! Are you there, _kupo_?"

The boy chose not to answer. Tyro's usual enthusiasm was finally beginning to wane after the past few years; _particularly_ toward his teacher. On the one hand, he was grateful to Dr. Mog for working tirelessly to discover improvements to the record army. But still, Dr. Mog's incessant lectures would really _grate_ at Tyro. Nowadays, his unchanging face just seemed to _mock_ the boy with every unimpressive relic draw. Especially with so many mythical weapons that Tyro coveted so very hungrily...

'Does it have to be now? Every day, every dungeon? Can't he give me a break?' the boy thought, with his bitterness still on mind.

'The master isn't going anywhere. He can wait,' Tyro decided. He had had a lot of experiences since embarking on this grand mission and wanted to bask in the moment for just a little longer.

At times, he got to experience the glory days of all of his favorite legendary lores. Tyro got to witness the majesty of kingdoms like Figaro, Baron, and Tycoon. All the while taking their royalty to become his soldiers. Tyro got to stand _in_ Edea's orphanage, Niblheim, and Zanarkand (And some records were quite moved to see their old homes intact). Tyro got to listen to the population of Spira singing for salvation as Yuna's guardians fought Sin atop the Fahrenheit. Tyro got to hunt in the jungles of Gran Pulse or Yuhtunga. He rushed to adventure with childlike wonder mixed with fiery valor.

Yet, there was also definitely a lot of time Tyro would dick around. He'd pay attention to other things whilst sending squads of memories to vanquish monsters. Maybe he would send a group of white mages to slash Magic Pots with knives. Tyro might even be inclined send mortal enemies to fight alongside each other; laying waste to masses of monsters simply to farm orbs. At least this showed Tyro seriously took the time to gather resources.

And still, there were quite a large number of times where he might lead an odd combination of heroes from across time and space to fight impossibly tormenting nightmares. Tyro didn't find this fun, but he never ran from a challenge. Vicious god-demons sent hordes of stronger beasts, all of whom racked the body with grievous injuries. It felt cruel to Tyro, not just for the suffering he felt, but also for that of his party members. With every attempt, Tyro relived the same defeats over and over again just for the chance to change it to a victory. And so too did his friends relive those failures and repetitive, painful _deaths_.

Friends he called them. The hero records were his _friends_. Tyro was now attached to these people. But he worried whether or not this friendship was real. His allies were genial or at least cordial, and quite receptive to Tyro's development as a whole. Many even tried to outdo themselves and improve their skills merely to get Tyro's spirits up.

'When the darkness is gone, will the records return to simply being legends? Will they forget me? Will they disappear?'

Tyro didn't know the answers to these questions. And often times, he only had time to think of the next battle. He was, after all, Dr. Mog's greatest disciple in all of the Royal Archives. Soon enough though, Tyro would learn the answers to these questions he'd had over the years. But for now, he sighed, and headed to answer his master's summons.

* * *

 _Center Atrium_

"What is it Dr. Mog?" Tyro asked with a sigh, finally returning to the atrium floor.

The wide hall shone brightly in the sun through the glass windows. In a few corners of the chamber, Tyro could spot some stragglers; records that wanted to sit alone in the sanctuary: Ricard and Kimahri, among the _many_ that were rarely called upon to fight. Upon spotting the child, they stood up and left. This wasn't out of rudeness, but possibly out of respect as Dr. Mog normally only called Tyro for tutorial lessons. And tutorials between the two were often quite loud and lengthy.

"Those two records you've brought me from the event warp? We can't use them, _kupo_." the moogle said.

"What's wrong with them?" Tyro queried, curious but a little annoyed. He'd quite recently obtained the 'Cosmos' and 'Chaos' hero records from a dungeon floor boss fight. It wasn't difficult, but it wasn't so easy that he didn't expect a suitable reward. From what he'd gathered through word of mouth, the two seemed like they could make solid additions to his army. They were both quite powerful within their home realm.

"I'm worried... You've just retrieved them. And yet they're already at the peak of their strength," Dr. Mog responded.

Tyro was stunned. The closest he had ever felt to this was when he first met Thunder God Cid. He was the first hero he had met that was already halfway to godly strength before even joining. Here and now, Tyro felt a magnified version of that previous feeling. There was no need for memory crystals, so they had all their memories? _And both of them were maxed?_ _  
_

"We should summon them right away," Tyro gleamed. This seemed like a gift from the heavens; an answer to his prayers! He often wanted more power. There were skills he knew he would never see, and it haunted him. And he never had enough motes or crystals... But at least this time, he wouldn't need to egg these two! Tyro's heart fluttered.

"Hold it!" Dr. Mog shrieked, "Are you ignoring me? Th-that's a terrible idea, _kupokupopopo_!"

Tyro was beginning to believe the moogle speech tick was there to purvey emotional emphasis, like an exclamation mark. He could easily infer by the deafening pitch of this fae, that Dr. Mog felt strongly about this. But Tyro too was ruffled:

'The master was panicking? Why?  
What if this wasn't the first time the master has purposely kept something from me, for being too powerful?'

Even as the moogle huffed for air at his brazen student and clenched his little eyes, his expression still didn't really change. And now Tyro was triggered. There was that _grating_ face again. And Tyro was struggling a great deal to push away his anger.

'But the master's patronizing _face_! It brings me back to every relic I would never see... It had to be _on purpose_. Because this _grating_ moogle always had a preference for drawing staves and rods and books over swords or armor.'

Tyro's resentment had been growing for a long time. Nine-24-14, The day Tyro first began entering strange worlds to expel the darkness. The day the fate of the entire kingdom was thrust upon his hands. An apprentice mage becomes the general of a Pantheon. For his people's sake he had to grow up, and _quickly_. It had already been a few years since they began this venture. He was only a young child when this began, and was still much too young now. _And_ he never had enough resources.

Tyro was the hero who was going to save the realm, and he knew it; he _told_ himself this. He had been so patient up until now. But in the heat of the moment, he wasn't going to listen to an order from this irritating _abdicator_ ; this adult who thrusts such responsibility on a _child_.

Without hesitation, Tyro faced Dr. Mog with defiance burning in his eyes. With teeth grit, he lifted his little hand into the air and he pulsed with the fabric of reality. Shocked beyond belief, the moogle froze in horror. The ground trembled as Tyro completes the summoning. In a flash of light, Cosmos and Chaos faded into reality to stand before him.

* * *

 _Cosmos has joined the Party!_

 _Chaos has joined the Party!_

* * *

 _Zone I_

With eyes wide, the Warrior of Light perked (the real hero record, not the memory of a boss battle). He could feel the change in the atmosphere settle into his very _bones_. He abruptly stood from his seat, concern throbbing against his skull.

In a single, mad leap he was already out of his tent and looking around. With his very first glance he made eye contact with Firion from afar. They nodded to each other. Dozens of other records had noticed as well. Cosmos and Chaos had returned.

Now, none (sans the Warrior of Light and Garland) were in any way _loyal_ to the false Gods anymore though. Compared to being brought to a Torment dungeon with Tyro, the 'Conflict of the Gods' was just an extended sparring tournament. A rather fun one, really, if not for the annoying handicap to their memories. Well, _most_ of Cosmos' participants had that opinion. Not _all_. Kain and Lightning in particular were adamant in hating the experience. Cloud and Squall would say this too, but they most certainly are not being honest with themselves.

With worry in his heart, the Warrior of Light rushed toward the source of his worries.

* * *

 _Outside the Nightmare Dungeon  
_

Outnumbered and ostracized from their own zones, some of the villains now camped together. Sephiroth was alone for a long time, talking to no one, with the exception of the rare moment when it was needed for him to answer questions from his party members when he was summoned for battle.

Though, Sephiroth didn't mind being alone at all. In fact, he was rather _disturbed_ and _aggravated_ when the mad clown (and the very next week the evil tree) joined him in the outskirts of camp by the Nightmare realm. The other eventual neighbors weren't as bad (thought still quite annoying); like a heretic knight worshipping Chaos, a crotchety old sellsword, a brightly-armored scheming dictator. As time passed, Sephiroth found (slightly) less irritating neighbors in Seymour and Vayne, whom Sephiroth might associate with on occasion.

But it was from within the heretic's tent that a raucous, booming laughter arose.

" _Chaos_ has returned!" Garland proclaimed loudly.

Sephiroth wasn't amused. The Conflict of the Gods offered a small number of interesting social experiments, but was overall not worth his time. During one of his cycles under Chaos, Sephiroth had _killed_ himself, mainly just to see what would happen. He didn't try that here though. Rather, in the early days he'd died _many_ times under Tyro's command. And Sephiroth remembered each one; though he blamed it on _useless_ teammates, particularly the Cores during those days. Sephiroth's raw power made him a prime candidate for many of the raids in the first year.

He didn't want to dally here either. So that he could return. To his planet. To _Mother_. This realm seemed to be some _outside_ perspective, where his very existence may be fictional. But Sephiroth refused to be seen as anything less than real. He was a _champion_. So, whenever Sephiroth was summoned, he fought _hard_ to be one of the best.

* * *

 _Center Atrium_

Immediately after the summoning, Tyro collapsed onto the marble ground of the atrium. Wheezing for air, he fell to the floor; one hand on the cold floor and the other grasped at his chest. If the blinding light hadn't been bad enough, Tyro was suddenly dizzy and exhausted. The disoriented child shuddered and crumpled before the Gods before falling unconscious. Calling forth both Cosmos and Chaos had been too much for him.

For both his headache and guilt, Dr. Mog rubbed his temple slowly. He had wanted to warn Tyro that these two would require a painfully large amount of energy the first time. With a grimace he eyed his disciple warily. The poor thing had seized and fainted. This wasn't something that could be fixed with a potion, or a spell, or perhaps even _stamina gems_.

This wasn't ordinary. This was actually quite serious. Under the circumstances, Dr. Mog would have to announce to the kingdom that all Record Keeper activities were halted due to 'maintenance'. And he had no idea for how long Tyro could be catatonic. This, so soon after the start of this Dissidia equinox... Tyro had been excited for weeks for this event warp to appear. He was still only halfway done with it. The boy hadn't left a dungeon incomplete since the Parade Float in Deling City. The boy might have an aneurysm if he missed another single thing.

Dr. Mog worried for his naive pupil. It was good for the fate of the kingdom to keep the little prodigy happy. The darkness was being expelled amazingly efficiently. Thus far in this war Tyro overcame _everything_ when he put his mind to it. And Dr. Mog did the best he could. If only he had the right resources. What good was the kingdom's gold when there were magic jewels needed to summon legendary relics?

Out of breath, the Warrior of Light bursts into the chamber.

" _Cosmos_!" he exclaimed.

With eyes half-open, Cosmos only tilted her head to look on at the nameless warrior. She had settled comfortably onto a sofa. Chaos had done the same, lazily resting on an elbow one sofa over. Despite their flair for the dramatic, both specimens were actually quite spacey when they weren't fighting each other. After only a glance, Cosmos returned to her thoughts without speaking. The Warrior of Light didn't quite know what to make of this. Normally he would yell 'Chaos!' and charge, but that clearly didn't seem fit the mood in the room.

"Warrior-Guy!" the moogle called out flatly, "Need your help with this, _kupo_."

Dragging Tyro by the feet, Dr. Mog brought the boy's limp body to the Warrior of Light. Normally, the knight would be _quite_ remiss at the poorly thought out nickname, but it wasn't the time.

"Take him to a bed, would ya?" Dr. Mog said brusquely.

This wasn't a request. Without waiting for an answer, the moogle continued to trot along. He was seemingly indifferent to the new summons that now had nothing to do and nowhere to go. The damage had already been done, and the wheels would begin to turn.

Without difficulty, the Warrior of Light picked up Tyro, resting the boy's head in the crook of the man's arm. Cradling the small child against his shining chestplate, he frowned.

" _ **What a tragic hero**_ ," Chaos spoke. His voice was deep and booming.

" _You_...! Do you... mock me?" the Warrior questioned, uncertain. Since the very minute he was summoned here, he had learned his first impressions were very often wrong. It had shaken his confidence.

" _ **Not you... The boy- So young. So... unfortunate.**_ " Chaos lamented. It sounded sincere.

"You are going to refrain from causing any trouble here, is that understood?" the Warrior demanded. Implicitly, this was more of a plea.

" _ **I needn't interfere. Discord will erupt in this realm without my doings...**_ " Chaos droned, " _ **Go on, warrior.**_ "

The Warrior of Light didn't have much patience for this, but he had held onto his dignity. Feeling himself needed elsewhere, he left. With great care, he carried Tyro down the steps. The boy would sleep for now, still naive to what the future will bring.

* * *

 _Next chapter is one of the longest, and is mainly composed of day-to-day chatting and learning more about the hero records' encampments here in the Royal Archives. So if that's not your thing, it drags on and you can skip it!  
_


	3. Records Without a Keeper

**Records without a Keeper**

* * *

 _*Royal Archives performing maintenance. Duration: Indefinite*_

* * *

Over the years, Tyro had amassed _tons_ of myths and legends to fight by his side; each with their own feelings, memories, and beliefs. And yet none of the records had ever quit or refused to fight. They were warriors, protectors, or destroyers simply by default. To some, this seemed as though it was their own personal Valhalla. Lands to conquer, knowledge to be gained, and love aplenty.

Things were different in the beginning. There was a lot more inter-realm mingling before (pretty much exclusively so). Among the first for Tyro to summon were Wakka, Gordon (with Josef), Irvine, and Snow. They chatted and camped together from early on. Rydia was the group's resident princess for a while. But as the weeks went on, the group became larger until it broke up into a community of smaller cliques, mainly separated by realm origin. The first major camps that arose were zones for those from the fourth and seventh realms. They were followed by Zones VI and X. And then the rest began to sprout as they grew in members.

The very first to be summoned though, was Cloud. And despite his spotty self-awareness and poor communication skills, he was Tyro's first military general. Cloud's testimony would reveal some warriors had fought together before.1

While many met for the first time in the Conflict of the Gods, they had their memories wiped at the time. But now (much like the second Conflict of the Gods with Materia and Spiritus) they all had memories of the times they'd met before. They remembered that they had already defeated their arch-nemeses. The heroes were _confident_.

Soon after getting here, with his experience and sheer power, Cloud led many successful raids on the darkness in the first year. He was a decorated squad leader always above popular leaders at the time: like Sazh and Bartz. Cloud often assured Tyro he was 'not interested' in saving the realm, and yet he still fought harder than anyone else. But these days Cloud didn't need to fight as much. Oftentimes for Tyro, there were simply too many choices among his vast array of heroes to bring. And Cloud didn't mind in the least. Since then, Ramza and Y'shtola picked up quite a bit of the slack.

But now, without Tyro, many of the records were uneasy.

* * *

 _Zone I  
_

A smaller encampment, the zone for the Ones sat at the beginning of the record hall. It was only a short distance from the Daily Dungeon; where the Cores would gather. While most of the other hero records were just cordial to the Cores out of politeness, members of Zone I would go as far as to _socialize_ with their less-useful neighbors. Other than this, the Ones tended to try not to stand out. This 'humility' was a command from the Warrior of Light, who had stood alone as the sole One for a long time before being joined by others.

Now, the Warrior of Light sat in silence. This had never happened before (in reference to the unplanned blackout of course, not the Warrior of Light sitting in silence. _That_ happened quite often). Without invitation, a small fairy found her way in.

"What is it, _what is it?_ " Echo pestered cheerily. She was quite ecstatic to find a place where everyone could see her, and dug her nose into just about everything now. She still stuck close to Wol most of the time though.

"Chaos is here," the Warrior said gravely.

" _What!?_ It's time for his return already!? I-I don't think Wol is prepared! Wait, how did he even get here!?" Echo sputtered hastily.

"Not _your_ Chaos," the Warrior assured her, "Or even mine. And rather, he's here as a hero record."

"What!? Truly!?" the pixie shrieked, her mood having quickly shifted from her worries. The sound she made was high-pitched and shrill in a way that the Warrior thought sounded shocked, but also quite pleased. With little breaths between her words, Echo jabbered quickly and excitedly.

"How quaint! How disturbing! How exciting!" Echo chattered, "Are you gonna fight him? Are you gonna fight _with_ him!? Can I watch? I should gather _everyone_ who hated a 'Chaos' in their world!"

Echo continued babbling on, but the Warrior of Light wasn't listening to a word of it. In his own thoughts, the man stewed. He hadn't been fazed when Garland was summoned. But this was different. This 'Chaos' was so similar to his own world's Chaos.

Zidane was content to work with Kuja. But would he have been as accepting of Necron?  
Cecil was happy to fight alongside Golbez, but wouldn't he draw the line at Zeromus?

And this wasn't even the biggest thing on the Warrior of Light's mind. Anxiety gripped his heart in a way he didn't understand (or believe possible). The memory of Cosmos' flippant disregard for him was rattling the man.

'Why didn't she care to see me?' he wondered inwardly. The entire time he pondered, Echo hadn't stopped talking.

"... And we should rename you Won. That way, you'll be our one Won, the first One of zone one!" the fairy cackled to herself. She had somehow gone drastically off-topic. It seemed, she thought the naming scheme here was stupid. The Warrior of Light couldn't help but agree, but he felt it wasn't really his problem.

'How seriously should all of this be taken?' he thought.

* * *

 _Zone T  
_

The Tactics Zone (as it was sometimes deigned to be called) was one of the newer camps. It stood almost on the furthest end of the gallery, opposite to Zone 1. Despite its relative freshness, it was also one of the most lauded factions (and was the one that looked the most like an actual military camp). Agrias, Cidolfas Orlandeau, and zone leader Ramza were model soldiers; each often instrumental to their team's victory anytime they were called forth. With a _Cleansing Strike_ and a _Banishing Strike_ Agrias could break any boss' sword or spell, no matter how mystical or legendary. The Thunder God smote his enemies to dust. And Ramza imbued his allies with great strength, speed, and fortitude. No one could deny the 'Tacts' were just as valid as (if not, stronger than) any other force in the army.

"Ramza?" Ovelia spoke softly, respectfully. She entered her commander's tent slowly and gracefully, making little sound. It was kind of odd how nice she was. And despite her lack of experience, she tried quite hard whenever she was deployed. With the right materia, oftentimes it seemed as though she were bending the laws of probability as she dualcasted one white magic spell after another.

"Princess, what is it?" Ramza replied. He wasn't particularly troubled today. Although there had been quite some commotion since the shut-down, Ramza wasn't worried, which was unlike him. Today he was the kind of Ramza that could relax atop a grassy field chewing straw.

"We... we were joined by Chaos and Cosmos last night... Considering these two most recent hero records, does this mean I might meet Materia and Spiritus?" Ovelia asked.

Ramza thought for a moment. This was indeed a possibility. He had never been summoned by Cosmos before, but Ramza had fought under Materia, the Goddess of Machines alongside quite a few other records.

"No, I think not," he replied finally, "Cosmos and Chaos aren't even really gods. No matter how powerful, in the end they were only artificial."

"Artificial?" Ovelia echoed.

"Yes. Tyro shared the lore with us. Those two 'gods' are merely manikins." he stated. And anyway, many of his comrades had already killed beings much like gods before.

'So why should anyone be afraid now?' he contented to himself. Appeasing the princess's worries, Ramza changed the subject.

"Have you... spoken to Delita?" Ramza asked. At this, Ovelia's mood noticeably soured.

"I have nothing to say to the man that _killed_ me," Ovelia said tersely. Ramza almost flinched. He too failed to have much friendly conversation with his childhood friend yet.

"Besides," Ovelia continued, "Agrias never allows me _close_ to him. Otherwise I'd give him a piece of my mind!"

Ramza chuckled. It was refreshing to see Ovelia drop her dignified facade. While many records were more sensitive to the qualms of the dead records, Ramza was fairly sure that they were all stuck there; so it didn't really matter. In fact, ever since his sister had arrived here, Ramza didn't have much to pray for. He could finally rest easy.

* * *

 _Library Upper Level_

Dr. Mog sat at his desk. The moderately-sized chair looked humongous around the tiny man. Dr. Mog was still fairly young. He would imagine that he could still go back to the countryside and try to find someone to settle down with... till the world ended.

Yet, that couldn't be. For multiple reasons. But to him, the main reason was that he had a duty. People were counting on him, or at least Tyro was (try as the boy might to deny it). But there was nothing Dr. Mog could do now. Those two records _know_ too much, it was a facet of their exposure to Shinryu, and their governance over the Rift. Even false gods weren't ignorant to the way things _really_ worked around here, behind the scenes. And since Tyro asked too many damn questions, the moogle knew it was only a matter of _when_ the boy would learn the secrets of the Royal Archives. Thus, both Cosmos and Chaos were a ticking time bomb of knowledge that shouldn't be known.

With a sip of his coffee, the moogle stared at a fixture on the wall. It was a regular painting, just decoration portraying a few eidolons. Dr. Mog pondered to himself as he gazed half-heartedly; he never did write that book he'd always wanted to write.

* * *

 _Zone III  
_

The average age in Zone III was notably lower than any other camp. Watching the teens as they wandered about was reminiscent of seeing children around a clubhouse or hideout. It didn't really feel like an army camp at all. Desch (who didn't have anyone around to flirt with) didn't really stick around much, except to sleep. Refia was one of the _guys_ , no question. She was definitely more masculine than most of her teammates. Though Luneth was camp leader for the first bit, he had since stepped down and given the position to Onion Knight. Though, he was still a bit bitter about it at times.

"Arc," Luneth spoke, "Don't you think Onion Knight is kind of overrated?"

"You're just jealous," Arc pointed out, "You miss the attention."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" Luneth gasped. He didn't take things to heart though.

"Luneth, don't worry. You've really carried the team in the early days. And you still kick a lot of butt to this day," Arc gleamed, "You're still going to get stronger. And there's no shame in that."

No matter where, Luneth and Arc were best friends. First and foremost. Luneth could always count on Arc to know just what to say.

"Arc... what happened to your black magic?" Luneth changed the subject.

"I don't _know!_ " Arc cried, "It's so much weaker now..."

This was something he felt strongly about. Arc had been quite the impressive young Sage back home. At the very least, his summoning abilities were still intact, but he never had much opportunity to use them. Now, he was pretty much solely delegated to healing.

"My _spells_... my arcane widespread destruction... _gone_ ," Arc lamented, half-jokingly, "I needed so many motes to just get close to half what I used to be able to do!"

"Lost a lot of your magic, huh?" Luneth jeered, "I bet Onion took it!"

"I took what?" the Onion Knight chirped from behind.

" _Whoa!_ " the pair exclaimed. Luneth and Arc turned around to face the blond boy.

"Evening gents," the Onion Knight grinned. He was softer than his Dissidia comrades remembered him to be. He was still just as confident and analytical, but not quite so high-strung. The Onion Knight had found a home in this world. Family.

"What's the consensus O.K.?" Luneth changed the subject again. The Onion Knight didn't really mind any of the nicknames he got. It made him feel like he had a name. He'd always wanted one.

"It's fine," he responded, "I met up with Terra. She... wasn't in a good mood. She was even more upset about Chaos than she was back when Kefka arrived here. The others don't think we'll have any problems though."

"Go on then, will you? Give us details, Onion!" Luneth said, wanting to avoid another of the Onion Knight's excessively long explanations. Arc wondered if there was a point to alternating between different nicknames.

'A bunch of heroes were all meeting up in secret... What did Cosmos' chosen talk about?' Luneth wondered.

Manners among children are different. It was okay for Luneth to interrupt (as he often did) and it was also okay that the Onion Knight completely ignored him.

"Yes, Terra was the most powerful comrade in the Conflict of the Gods. We walked side-by-side into the unknown. I, a lone knight fought others who would use her power for destruction!" the Onion Knight bragged. He would only do this when she wasn't within earshot. It seemed like he wasn't going to reveal anything just yet.

"Kefka, with his Slave Crown. Ex-Death. The Cloud of Darkness!" he continued, "I was almost the _first_ to retrieve my crystal! If not for the man now leader of the Sevens, Cloud Strife!"

Luneth and Arc listened patiently. If the kid wasn't going to get to the point, there probably wasn't any emergency.

'Everything will be fine when Tyro wakes up.'

* * *

 _Dissidia Event Dungeon_

"Should we really be doing this?" Firion wondered aloud, a pensive tone to his voice. He and four other hero records were running through the event dungeon without Tyro's consent, they stopped between floors to converse.

Before answering, Zidane and Bartz looked at each other. Then looked forward at Tidus and Squall.

"Whaaat. C'mon Firion! Don't worry about it!" Tidus laughed it off. Too many hours were passing without the boy waking up, and there were still monsters to kill; before the event warp would disappear forever. Tyro would be quite upset if they missed any mythril while the boy was dozing away.

"Yeah, this kinda stuff is a piece of cake; we just don't want to waste Tyro's stamina or miss any of this loot!" Zidane said. Admittedly, Zidane had too much of a propensity for shiny things for him to have a clear view on this. Then again, Firion didn't disagree per se. But...

"As Tyro's summons, by utilizing the warps in the realm we sap some of Tyro's stamina, correct? Couldn't this theoretically make it take _longer_ for the boy to awaken?" Firion asked, "What do you think, Squall?"

Squall hadn't spoken for a while. It was slugfest, so the five men didn't even need to use any abilities. They just _rushed_ through it, swinging their swords until nothing else was moving.

"Our priority is the mission," Squall replied, "And I'm sure Tyro would approve."

"But that's just it," Firion countered, "Tyro's just a _boy_. Perhaps it's our duty as adults, as heroes, to provide a better example. To prioritize his _health_."

Then again, Firion looked around at the zone representatives he ventured with. Tidus, Bartz, and Zidane weren't exactly mature and level-headed. And in a different way, even Squall was quite stubborn about these kinds of things.

"... After a couple more floors, we can reconvene outside," Squall said finally, "There's no reason why we can't wait a few hours for Tyro to wake up until the next time we're worried about wasted stamina."

Firion breathed a sigh of relief at the compromise. And no one else seemed to have any problem with this. Tyro, no matter how small and young, was still a warrior like any other.

"Ready guys!?" Tidus shouted suddenly, "It's time for a boss fight!"

The five men all had fully charged up over the past few floors. They were completely ready to unleash their pent up soul breaks on the boss and finish it off quickly. It would be like a race; would everyone even get their turn?

Firion smiled. Sure, he had some foolhardy friends, but it was refreshing to just seize the day as they did.

* * *

 _Zone X  
_

Yuna's headquarters was a modest kind of pretty. Embroidered tapestry and flags hung on the walls. Flowers and jewels hung on hooks or rope. Though the decorations looked shabby and disorganized; the homely encampment looked downright comfortable. Not many others had bothered to stylize their faction's headquarters, but the people of Spira were quite used to patching and recycling.

"Yuna, you guys have any updates?" Wakka asked. He stiffly walked into the room and sat on a bench across from Yuna. Wakka was worried about his son.

He and Sazh headed parent meetings together on occasion. Tyro had had to assure the group that they would be brought straight back to the moment they became a record. Wakka didn't want his infant son Vidina to miss him for even an hour. So, Wakka was an absolute beast in the record hall, keeping giants at bay many a time in the early days. To him, anything that slowed down the mission pushed his baby boy another day away.

"I'm sorry Wakka," Yuna spoke softly. Despite her vibrant health and awesome power, her voice always sounded meek and sick when she spoke. Wakka couldn't hear it though. For most of her life, Yuna was like a little sister to him. But now, Yuna was his _hero_. Sure, he would still _look out_ for her, but he also looked _to_ Yuna for strength. And his prayers were always answered.

"It's been days now. And the child hasn't awoken..." Yuna murmured, "Poor Tyro..."

"I getcha..." Wakka slumped. He wanted to be sensitive. He didn't want to put more weight on Tyro. And Wakka knew the time Yuna got to spend with her father meant a lot to her. There were a lot of other records here who were dead too. Family. Friends. Sir Auron included. He wasn't trying to rush their return to the afterlife.

'Would they even have anything to go back to if the darkness in this world is destroyed?'

Braska and Tidus were happy and proud to endorse Yuna to be the leader of Zone X. No one objected. Tidus in particular bent down on one knee and asked to be knighted. And this wasn't the worst of the pair's public displays of affection. Yuna was free now, to live and love.

But at this moment, Yuna wanted to give Wakka a hug and hum a tune. Yet, she had lost her ability to sing here. It made her quite sad. Singing was her medium, her meditation, and her kiss on a loved one's forehead to them know it's okay. Instead, with her right arm she rubbed Wakka's shoulder lightly. He wiped one of his eyes with a knuckle.

"Cheer up Papa-Wakka," Yuna encouraged, "We'll get there. We always do."

Wakka put his effort into smiling back at her.

"I know you're right.. And I got a wife next door I gotta be strong for too, ya?" he said. Still concerned, the man stared at his hands, back into his thoughts.

'Supporting others will give you strength.'

* * *

 _Zone II  
_

Reminiscent of their roots, the Twos modeled their headquarters after the rebel camps they'd set up in Fynn. Prince Gordon stood at the helm of their faction until Firion arrived. At the time, it was only due to Firion and Maria's insistence that Leon was able to sleep there with everyone else. Though, that was about all he did in Zone II. In the daytime, Leon found more welcoming company with Kain Highwind (and a few of the other quiet, morally-gray records). This was much to the chagrin of Ricard Highwind, Kain's ancestor who once fought the Dark Knight Leon. Ricard was disappointed that Kain was nothing like Ricard's young son, whom Kain was named after.

"Ye be saying ye died and went to _Hell_!?" Leila shouted. She was actually quite fond of stories despite her cold front.

"Well we _thought_ it was Pandemonium. It turned out to be the pit for fallen angels! A kingdom of Heaven! _Aruboth_!" Josef retorted.

"And yer boys, who were they?" Leila asked.

"It was me, the Mountain Man! Ricard, the Last Dragoon! Minwu, the Ultimate White Wizard! And Gordon's late-brother, the Brave Prince Scott!" Josef embellished the story only a little, it was mostly all true.

"We fought through mazes of monsters and found godly relics. And then! We killed the Emperor of Light!"

At that moment, as Leila cheered and Josef chest swelled with pride, Guy entered the room.

"Clear. Area." he spoke. He didn't mean to be rude. His vocabulary just wasn't so good. Others wondered how Guy and Gau interacted. Apparently, over the times they hunted together they rarely spoke in human words.

This wasn't something Guy normally said. It was clear he was told to say this. Leila and Josef scurried away. Their logic: If Firion was ordering people around, he was probably going to be pissy. He was quite aggravating to deal with at those times. What Leila and Josef didn't notice was the blood on Guy's hands.

With some difficulty, Firion entered the room behind Guy. With one hand, he was trying to stop the bleeding from his side. With the other hand, he reached out for Guy and used him as a crutch. As Firion walked to the center of the room, he grunted with pain upon slumping on a now-vacated wooden chair. Within moments, Maria rushed into the tent with Minwu. And with great haste, they tended to Firion's injuries.

"Without the child, we don't heal immediately upon leaving a warp," Firion struggled to speak, "I cleared some of the dungeons with a few able-bodied warriors, but I don't know if anyone can finish the last few without access to our ability vault."

Preparation, picking the right skills was key. He and the other volunteers could smash through floors and floors of monsters with sheer power. And it helped when they synergized to the realm. But to be stuck with whatever they had on? Options were limited. Only one white mage in the entire realm had Curaja equipped. While _none_ of the other healing spells were out in circulation. Many of the injured had to rely on the few who had healing magic within their relics.

With a single uttered word ( _Will!_ ), light shone around Minwu. In but an instant, Firion was at prime health. His wounds were closed.

"Thank you," Firion gasped, "That is... much better."

Firion's speech was stiff and noble. There always seemed to be a hint of performance in his every word. Like an actor playing the hero.

"It is no problem," Minwu responded.

Minwu's speech was rigid in a different way. With his every pronounced syllable, it was hard to tell if he was sneering down on others or if he was simply a guarded foreigner. But other Mysidians, however mysterious were at least capable of laughter.

"If anyone falls in battle, I am certain there is no one carrying the Arise scroll right now..." Firion warned, "We have to be careful."

'And hope that Tyro awakens soon.'

* * *

 _Alright, Tyro's been asleep for long enough. Some suggestive themes next chapter for some of my canon ships.  
_


	4. Awake

**Awake**

 _Zone II_

It was still dawn when Lightning walked into the Two's camp. She didn't intend to disturb anyone on her way through, so she tried not to make too much noise. As she moved down the road though, gravel crunched lightly underfoot.

The l'Cie was leisurely sauntering up to the exit when someone cleared his throat from beside her. She turned.

"Lightning," Firion called as he walked up to her.

"Firion," Lightning greeted.

"You're up early," Firion observed. At this, the woman casually rested one hand on her hip. Firion hoped to get some conversation out of her, but he wasn't very good at this.

"So are you," she was her reply, not offering much.

"Well, I was injured. So, I went to bed a little earlier than usual..." Firion attempted to continue the conversation, nervously scratching the back of his head. Admittedly, he was a little intimidated by her, but he pushed on.

"H-How about you?" Firion asked.

"I always wake up early," Lightning remarked. Firion sensed there was another half to that sentence that Lightning didn't say.

"Is it because of your military training?" Firion decided to press further. At this, the woman paused. She wasn't annoyed yet, and could probably stand to let others know more about herself. And it wasn't really a secret... So, she supposed there wasn't any harm in answering.

"No, even before the Guardian Corps, I..." Lightning wasn't sure how to put it.

"I guess I've just always enjoyed peaceful walks at dawn," she phrased it.

"Oh. How nice," Firion sputtered, "In that case, don't let me keep you."

Lightning gave a slight smile.

"See ya," she replied, before turning back toward her walk. At first, Firion kicked himself for not offering to walk with her. But after thinking on it, decided he made the right choice in letting Lightning have her 'me-time'.

* * *

 _Atrium East Wing_

When Tyro's eyes fluttered open, he was alone. He looked around and recognized the medical wing. It was _rarely_ ever used, but someone had come and cleaned it up; dusted the room. White curtains blew in the slight breeze from the slits in the window. Sunlight burned Tyro's eyes, but it also felt good. He felt _alive_.

The child, though weary and achey, he _smiled_. Tyro thought about his soldiers for a while. He liked to do that. They were his pantheon. He could come up with lots of fun setups. It was the whole point.

"Maybe I'll build a team around Cid Raines and Alphinaud..." Tyro whispered. Alphinaud was whiny and spoke funny, but he was also quite the caster. And none could deny the magical prowess the two of them had with their burst relics.

Dauntless, Tyro took a step off of the bed. Ignoring the pain in his muscles, he soldiered to the door. The only sound that could be heard were the boy's slippers brushing against the tile. Slow scrapes echoed throughout the halls.

Dr. Mog and many of the Hero Records visited Tyro since his hospitalization. So, he wasn't alone right now because he was _unloved_ or something. Tyro simply chose an opportune time to wake up. Unintentionally, of course. But the child was very happy to have his thoughts to himself.

"I want to bring Fujin up to snuff..." he muttered to himself. Tyro sunk quite a portion of his treasures into ninjas. He was, after all, still a boy at heart. He still had difficulty with bringing _any_ of his ninjas to their fullest potential. But he was definitely getting there with Shadow and Edge.

"Tyro!" came a yell. A woman's voice. Authoritative yet caring. A white cape fluttered in the air as Celes Chere ran through the arches. Underneath her fierce exterior, she was quite attached, maybe even dependent on the boy. With each step of her boots along the polished floor, the sound of her heels reverberated around them. Her stride and form created steady, even knocks; unsurprising of her military training. Upon reaching Tyro, she halted and fell to one knee.

"Tyro! You're up!" Celes began, "Should you be moving?" Without answering, Tyro continued to drag his feet across the floor, side-stepping the Ex-General.

He wanted to take the time to assuage her concerns, as she _was_ special to him. But he was young, too focused on himself. Tunnel-vision set in.

"How many days are left of the Dissidia event?" he questioned instead, still moving. Celes turned to face the boy with a smile.

'Thank goodness, he's fine,' she thought. With a nod, the warrior stood at attention.

"The Ultimate floors just opened up, and we've cleared the way up until that point. We still have time," she assured as she followed along.

"Eegad! ...Well, then we've revealed more relic lore correct? Take a hundred gems to the pedestal for me, pleeease?" Tyro requested. At this, Celes bowed and strode away. He was hopeful, but not completely invested.

Without stopping, the child made his way forward, excitedly stumbling across the foray.

'There was still much to be done!'

* * *

 _Zone VIII  
_

The SeeDs were systematic and organized. Squall commanded his troops fairly and with few orders. But they were all so well-trained, they were quite capable of keeping themselves in check. This was even truer of Seifer's gang, who took it upon themselves to patrol or stand watch for errant records making a fuss (though, it was a unique way of bullying, electing themselves as something akin to hall monitors). Selphie was perhaps a bit energetic, but she played around in other zones, particularly with Rikku. Perhaps Rinoa was unruly, as she hadn't had any real training. But she was the camp's princess, treated with extra favor by just about everyone there (except the girls). This meant Seifer's disagreements here were often with Zell, who had a problem with volume control. Even in ordinary conversation, it seemed like Zell might flare up into yelling about _anything_.

Squall awoke slowly. He had recovered from his previous runs at the dungeons. He looked to his left and observed Rinoa beside him, snoozing peacefully. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. She didn't wake from this; she was probably the heaviest sleeper in the entire zone.

He got up and dressed. His heavy black jacket fell over his shirt comfortably (though many wondered, isn't he _hot_ under all that leather and fur?). He didn't bother to buckle more than two belts today. No one teased him about his sense of fashion here, mainly because everyone was from different worlds, so they couldn't quite tell what was normal or not. He put Griever back around his neck, and slipped his gloves on. It was as he tied his boots that Rinoa finally murmured awake. She drowsily rubbed her eyes before looking to Squall.

"... _Heeey_ , you..." she mumbled, "You going out to fight again...?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling better," he responded, "I was just tired."

"You certainly didn't seem tired _last night_ ~" Rinoa teased.

"Don't wait up," was all he said. Rinoa gave a light smile, eyes still half-closed, before dropping back down again with a _Fwump_ as she buried herself back under the fluffy comforter and pillows. Squall's gentle smile in return wouldn't be seen by anyone, which was how he preferred it. He took one last lingering glance at his Rinoa, before he zipped up the tent flap behind him. His mind clear and ready, Squall walked north to see what the hubbub was about in the center of the realm.

* * *

 _Announcement Board_

Upon returning to the outside, Tyro was met with handfuls of records. Those who did not stop to speak with Tyro at least took notice of him. He had deposited his hospital gown onto the floor of his chambers and now sported his official Record Keeper uniform. Everyone would assume that everything would go back to normal. With his oversized sleeves swaying with his little arms, Tyro marched to the announcement board. In childish handwriting:

Squall  
Tidus  
ExDeath  
Vaan  
Yshtola

The advance squad had been decided (and many had pointed out to Tyro that he _still_ didn't put the proper apostrophe in Y'shtola's name). He'd picked records that would receive a synergy bonus, as they were quite familiar with the worlds of Dissidia.

Tyro always ensured to oversee the clearing of the lowest levels of the dungeons, sometimes needing to participate himself. And yet, some of the darkest memories of his fastidious hero records have lurked down below. But Tyro wasn't going to back away. The Dissidia Event would be ending soon, and he had trials of Apocalyptic difficulty to complete!

* * *

 _Zone I  
_

After reading the bulletin, the Warrior of Light had learned that he wasn't a part of the advance squad. And honestly he was... a little jealous. It would be a lie to say that he didn't mind that he wasn't called forth immediately after Tyro's recovery. Especially more so that it was against Chaos' final form. He had a _vested_ interest in being the one to take the monster down. But he swallowed his pride.

Sure, some of the other zones' commanders were called upon more often than himself. But he had been excessively called upon to farm motes from such monsters as Titan and Daedalus this past year. He was certainly a more popular pick for Tyro than _most_ of the records in the hall. In fact, he nearly never saw any of the other Ones brought to battle except for during their own realm's respective events. But by now, the Warrior of Light felt a real connection to many of the heroes, and would have to live vicariously through them during this battle. Hoisting himself up from his seat, he decided to go and watch the fight.

Exiting his tent, he strode east of his zone casually (well, as casually as a militant clone in armor could walk, at least). On the way, he passed children playing in Zone III. He continued his walk, feeling as though perhaps life here was more peaceful than he gave credit. Another zone east and he walked straight through Zone IV. Cecil gave him a gentle smile and the Warrior of Light returned a respectful nod in kind. He had originally only felt a kinship to the Paladin, but now held deference for the man after learning that he was the King of Baron. Also, admittedly he felt grateful that the Warrior was called upon more than Cecil now (though Cecil was quite important in the early years).

As he stepped forward, the Warrior of Light entered zones that began to feel more foreign. The people of Zone VI only bore a passing resemblance to styles that he knew. Without seeing anyone he knew very well, the Warrior of Light continued on his path. Next, Zone VII was _entirely_ foreign to him. In return, its oddly-dressed inhabitants found antiques like the Warrior of Light to be odd, yet appealing. A perfect example of this dichotomy walked towards the knight, interrupting his thoughts. It was the squad leader of the zone who he was about to cross paths with.

It was unusual for the Warrior of Light to talk with Cloud. Other than serving together in a few other interdimensional campaigns, the only thing the two of them had in common was their dearth of conversation. And so, if this were any other day, the two would likely just make eye contact and give silent recognition to each other, and that would be the end of it. But this time, Tifa Lockheart was walking alongside the blond swordsman. Hands folded behind her back, she trotted along happily before noticing the Warrior of Light ahead. She immediately gave a big smile and waved to her former teammate under Cosmos.

"Heyy!" Tifa called.

'Oh god. A _conversation._ Anything but _that_.' Cloud thought to himself. Tifa's unnecessary little greeting was slightly irksome to Cloud; it would likely mean they would be forced to go through the polite pleasantries that came with bumping into a 'friend', but Cloud didn't say anything to protest. And the Warrior of Light was fairly apathetic about it in response, and approached the pair passively.

"Good morow, Tifa, Cloud," the Warrior spoke almost regally.

"What brings _you_ to our humble camp?" Tifa asked cheerily.

"I am merely passing through," the Warrior replied, "I was not requested for the current mission, so I thought perhaps I might come by and watch."

"Ooo, you also wanted to fight there, right?" Tifa quizzed, "I suppose it's not every day that so many of us would have a dungeon where we'd have synergy together."

" _This one's_ bitter about it too," Tifa added, pointing to Cloud with her thumb. This earned her a short glare from the man beside her.

" _I_ don't care," Cloud grumbled, rolling his eyes and turning away. His quickness to respond to Tifa's teasing was testament to this bitterness, and the knowing Tifa smiled all the more as she noticed this. He held in the desire to cross his arms; attributing meaning to this sort of body language was exactly what Tifa would comment on later, and Cloud didn't want to give her any more fuel to tease him further.

"Perhaps next time," the Warrior of Light spoke up.

"Yeah, whatever," Cloud replied annoyed. He was becoming impatient, and wanted to hurry this up. Without waiting, he began to walk past the conversation.

"Oh- Well, I guess we'll be seeing you later," Tifa blinked, beginning to follow Cloud. Other than Tyro waking up, today had been a little _boring_ for her tastes.

She was secretly pleased that she could force the anti-social Cloud to stop and chat. Now, he would have some built up agitation, some pent-up _aggression_ that he would want to _take out on her_ as soon as they were alone. She didn't mind in the least, and secretly reveled in these rare moments of feeling sly.

Pestering Cloud was becoming one of her most enjoyable hobbies (and it paid off for her twofold later at night). It seemed a little sadistic; a bit _mean_ toward her surly heartthrob at first, but on the days that she _didn't_ bother him, Cloud tended to unintentionally scorn her and completely ignore her. He just wasn't any good at being an attentive boyfrie-... Whatever he was. They didn't have titles.

Erstwhile, the Warrior of Light was entirely indifferent to this dynamic between the two of them. With a single look back at the two walking away, the Warrior turned and strode on without pausing. His listless stare ahead gazed toward a setting sun.

* * *

 _Tyro has dungeons to finish. He's gotta use up some of that stamina, next chapter!_


	5. Duty

**Duty**

 _Outside Dissidia Event Dungeon_

" _Helloo?_ " Dr. Mog called. He waited outside the event warp with confusion. Usually, he would be giving a short mission briefing to a squad about now. But instead, he stood there alone.

A man approached. With his stubby legs, Steiner made quick, short strides toward the moogle. In a moment, he was by Dr. Mog's side.

" _Doctor_!" the man spoke heartily and saluted attention, "Reporting for duty, sir!"

Dr. Mog wasn't used to this. He rarely had to deal with too many of the records personally and really didn't enjoy the formalities he was receiving. He wanted to yell, but moogles are rarely taken seriously when they overreact. Even wise, old moogles are treated like children when they act out, simply because of their size and voices. Dr. Mog had to play it down, and play along, more often than he liked.

"Erm. At ease, Captain," the moogle responded, restraining his impatience. He said 'Captain' even though he wasn't positive what rank Steiner held. Dr. Mog's lore knowledge was wide but specific mainly to artifacts, monsters, and magic. He couldn't tell you about Terra's orphans, Faris' pirate life, or the Crimson Squad; that was more of Tyro's thing.

"Tyro's party has gone on ahead, Doctor," Steiner said, diligence radiating from his very face.

Dr. Mog slumped to the ground. With a huff, the furry fae buried his face in his sleeves. This wasn't the first time Tyro had charged headfirst into a challenge without listening. A fair amount of those times the party ended up fine, but this moment didn't sit right with Dr. Mog.

Something had awakened in Tyro. A child can't summon a God without a boost in confidence, an adrenaline high. But this wasn't by Tyro's merit or anything. The power creep had set in, and the universe was running out of heroes to add. If anyone waited long enough, a few outliers were bound to come into play. The moogle was worried. He hoped he could avoid having Tyro talk to any false gods for too long...

* * *

 _Dissidia Event Dungeon_

" _Stoneskin_ " Y'shtola invoked softly. The Miqo'te could feel the familiar hardening of her skin. Her arms felt denser but unbreakable. Behind the protection wall as well, her confidence skyrocketed. There was nothing they couldn't face after proper damage mitigation. After strengthening her team, she could easily smile on the battlefield.

The form of Feral Chaos thrust his neck forward, stampeding like a bull. Without thought or slowing down, he viciously and relentlessly attacked. Giant claws swiped at Squall. Violent flames flew from the giant's every movement, letting droning snarls escape from his fanged jaws. At the same time, the barbaric creature continued to blitz through the team, interrupting the party's every action. All five were knocked to the ground, and quickly picked themselves up.

A quick-footed Tidus was the first to leap back into the fray, with a slash of his sword he siphoned rage from the monster. He would continue charging up this way as long as the team would allow him. With Feral Chaos' attention on the blitzballer, Squall made quick strokes with his weapon and siphoned rage from behind.

" _Grand Cross_ " Exdeath was finally able to utter. With a white light surrounding him, the armored warlock began to absorb the flames that were being thrown at the party, _pulling_ in the enemy's magic to power himself. Dozens of souls cackled with delight from within the haunted Tree of Moore, as he grew ever stronger from every blast of fire. He channeled the magic into his chest. With his right gauntlet outward, one of the evil spirits whispered, ' _Meltdown'._ And giant blasts of magma exploded onto Feral Chaos, forcing the creature backwards.

As the beast bellowed in pain, Vaan sped around it, and took the opportunity to slice at it. He wasn't expecting to do significant damage to it; he just needed to breakdown the armor-like skin with his every slash. To annoy, to clip its scales. Clusters of Vaan's handiwork were spread along Feral Chaos' side. But they the skin would regenerate quickly, not giving the attackers much time.

Squall ran forward, allowing Vaan to take steps away from the monster. Aiming at the vulnerable spots the young sky pirate had opened up, every concurrent blast of Squall's icy gunblade made the beast take further damage. From the opposite side, Squall could hear Tidus' relentless attacks continue. They pincered the monster with water and ice. But a with a wide-sweeping spin, Feral Chaos' tail clipped Squall, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, the monster's dominant claw bashed at Tidus, sending him flying.

" _Medica!_ " Y'shtola shouted. She had been trying to chant the spell for a while, but Feral Chaos' stunning slams had thrown the cat-eared white mage around and about the arena. She hadn't been able to heal a single friend till now. The reinvigorated warriors continued their assault. With swift kicks, Tidus sent Sapphire Shots into Feral Chaos. All the while, Exdeath continued his fiery assault.

Still, the monster continued thrashing about without flinching. The team had all taken enough pain, they were at their limits. But with the creature's wide sweeping motions, to have to dodge claws and wings and tail and fang and horns and fire. It was too much. No one had the time to charge or chant an ability. Those running low on health had to defend. Y'shtola was dedicated, and continued readying 'Curaja' in the face of the beast.

Once again, Tidus and Squall were winding up to utilize their unused rage. With a battlecry, Vaan leaps over a claw. With a sprint, he reaches the beast's face. He slices a ' _Northern Cross_ ' and Feral Chaos grimaced. And it was time for the counterattack. Tidus brought down a massive ' _Energy Rain_ ' as Squall cuts a ' _Sub-Zero Blast_ ' through the arena. Another roar erupts from the massive destroyer as the power surges over him.

Now, it was time to re-buff and defend. It was Phase 2 of the boss fight. Y'shtola finished another incantation for ' _Stoneskin_ ' at the same moment that Exdeath revitalized his ' _Grand Cross_ '

"Rinse and repeat!" Tyro ordered.

* * *

 _Dissidia Event Dungeon Entryway_

Directly outside of the dungeon record, Firion leaned against a wall. He looked over the shoulders of Terra, Yuna, and the Onion Knight, who watched the fight against Feral Chaos intently. He wanted his mind to be _clear_ and _unhindered_ , but he wasn't succeeding, particularly due to the company he dallied with.

A large brunt of Cosmos' chosen had convened together before the battle. They were informally there to support their brethren; Squall, Tidus, and Vaan. And also Y'shtola, who had entered the dungeon _confused_ as to why she was getting realm synergy despite having never been summoned by Cosmos. On occasion, the group of onlookers didn't hold back on compliments to Exdeath's well-timed casts.

Though, Cloud and Tifa had left before the fight even started. And when they were sure Cloud was out of earshot, Bartz and Zidane jeered togethe _r._

"Hey hey, one guess as to what _those two_ are doing in their tent right now," Zidane snickered.

"Wonder if he _scowls_ even when they're _alone_ together," Bartz bust out laughing, and patted Zidane on the back as the two hooted and hollered. Without Cloud or Squall around, they were unafraid of being told off.

"That's enough," the Warrior of Light imparted. He decided to take it upon himself to be the token blunt one, so that Lightning wouldn't have to. Though, he was doing this out of an outdated sense of chivalry toward the woman, who would normally be delegated toward stricter roles. In actuality, she easily ignored the lot of them; as her eyes didn't leave the battle.

"Perhaps this isn't suitable conversation for the present company," Cecil added, nodding toward the Onion Knight. Observing this, the Onion Knight scowled at being treated like a child. He was a boy-genius; _of course_ he'd read books on reproduction. That and, what kind of fourteen-year-old couldn't pick up the hint?

"I don't get it," Terra said quizzically, "What is it you think the two of them are doing?" She turned from her spectating to look at Zidane, who in-turn blushed wide-eyed, and turned away. Everyone in the group silently raised an eyebrow at Terra. The Onion Knight too, was red up to the ears, and kept quiet.

All of them (sans the Warrior of Light who didn't give it a second thought) were _astounded_ that Terra hadn't caught the innuendo. Or perhaps she wasn't _just_ innocent to dirty jokes and the like, but rather _completely unaware_ when it came to that subject. Deciding it wasn't their place (or their business), everyone sheepishly shut their mouth on the matter.

Looking around, Zidane realized he hadn't considered his audience as carefully this time. Bartz too felt a bit embarrassed. Without Vaan and Tidus nearby, Bartz didn't as often get caught in Zidane's stride. After all, he was the _oldest_ of the four troublemakers by a couple of years _._

"Did I say something wrong?" Terra asked sweetly, turning to Cecil. He hesitated.

"Perhaps this isn't the time," Cecil said finally. Terra shrugged, and returned to watching the match. Meanwhile, a blushing Yuna wondered if, one of these days, one of the older girls would feel it was their duty to pull Terra away and have to give her a talk on the birds and the bees.

* * *

 _Dissidia Event Dungeon_

After a drawn out fight, Tyro's advance squad had won. The dying Feral Chaos frothed without control. With heavy tremors, the molten flesh began to dissipate into smoke. As the berserker trembled, he thundered his dying gasps like shouts of hate.

"Alright!" "Yeah!" Tidus and Vaan stood and cheered. It hurt to lift their arms. The pair were both back down an instant later. Rest was well-deserved.

Squall tried not to show it, but he couldn't stand either, and rested his arms on his knees while lowering his head. He wasn't much of the celebrating type, but he too was relieved, even _pleased_. He recalled how _tough_ Feral Chaos had been before, when they first fought him in a nightmare reality where Chaos had won _nineteen_ cycles in the Conflict. There, in the Land of Discord, Squall ventured together with Terra, Cloud, Zidane, and Tidus to the Edge of Madness to kill a _much stronger_ Chaos. Though, Tidus didn't seem particularly nostalgic. Nor did he even mention the past.

Y'shtola tended to their wounds, and Tyro checked the loot carelessly. Precious stones, ore, or gold probably. It was getting kind of boring and maybe even not worth the trouble. It didn't matter, it was only Tyro's obsessive gamer-spirit that motivated him to clear these challenges now.

Tyro escorted his squad out of the event dungeon and spotted Dr. Mog. He didn't really want to deal with the fallout that came from ghosting his master just yet. With a small detour, the boy avoided the moogle. After completing all of the dungeon floors in the event, Tyro no longer had any pressing concerns. Maybe it was a good time to play around. Maybe check out some _new characters_? Usually, Tyro wasn't too impressed with new additions to his team. This is because even if they were egged to their max level, they were still without soul breaks, leaving them essentially unusable. Tyro just kept them all for completionist's sake. But he couldn't help but want to check out his two new ' _gods'_ in battle.

* * *

 _Outside Dissidia Event Dungeon_

Carefully, Tyro walked away from where Dr. Mog was standing without being noticed. Immediately after dodging the tiny Master of the Royal of the Archives, Tyro bumped into Sazh.

"Looking good out there Tyro. Guess you don't need an old man like me anymore, right?" Sazh spoke quickly and enthusiastically.

Beneath Sazh's grizzled disdain and pessimism, he was snarky out of humor. He liked to criticize and comment. And digging deeper, Sazh was a bleeding heart at his very core. He couldn't stand still when women and children were in danger. He couldn't live with himself if he'd failed to protect others. And now he just wanted to be with his son.

Tyro forced a smile back at the man. The child had no idea how someone could _un_ -summon a hero record. And he was secretly grateful for this, as he valued Sazh as an irreplaceable part of the thirteenth story.

"I'll always need you," Tyro said slowly, a bit sadly. This felt like both endearment and a curse to Sazh.

"All right, all right," Sazh replied, "But would you mind if I head into a memory of my son about now?"

Dajh. Tyro had heard a lot about him from the doting father. In the first year, Sazh may have been the pillar of Tyro's army. To any battle, Sazh would bring the buffs. Back then, usually he would be the one starting the fight. He brought a lot of utility to a battle. Sazh was a survivor.

These days though, he'd been brought into the battles less and less. Tyro had his hands full with new recruits all the time. Sazh didn't really see why he was needed there anymore. He was grateful to be with friends, and the sights he'd seen since becoming a hero record were amazing, to say the least. But Sazh just wanted to make sure Dajh was okay.

Tyro's guilt at ghosting the moogle previously prevented him from brushing off Sazh. Not that Tyro would often snub his warriors; he just got distracted easily. He was still, after all, only a child.

"Well," Tyro spoke, "If you want to see him, I can get you into the record where you reunite with Dajh in Nautilus, the City of Dreams."

Sazh wasn't ecstatic about this.

'That memory? Where Dajh turns into crystal and I almost shoot myself in the head?' He thought to himself. But he didn't speak his gripings out loud.

Sazh was willing to fight Byrnhildr a hundred times if it meant more time with Dajh. Still, it was frustrating that they hadn't recovered the memory after Orphan was destroyed and Dajh was released from his crystal.

"Look, kid..." Sazh began, "Will his memories even carry over? Is any part of him real?"

"That's a tough question, Mr. Sazh," Tyro mumbled.

"Why?" the man asked. The truth was, Tyro didn't know how it all worked.

In that moment, from the around corner, Cosmos emerged. Light radiated from her skin, lighting the area around her and announcing her approach.

" _ **You may not be real either**_ ," she uttered, " _ **All of your memories about this place may disappear one day.**_ "

Sazh had more experience dealing with goddesses than Tyro had. And with his experiences in mind, Sazh was confused by the goddess' interjection. Normally such being would be extremely cryptic and hide such information.

"C-Cosmos..." Sazh started, "Look, I know it's possible that the hero records are only illusions; placeholders for heroes of lore. But we remember our family, feelings, and friends. You can't just-"

" _ **You misunderstand**_ ," Cosmos interrupted, " _ **Your story was lauded, Sazh. Your friends are beloved. The stand-in I was referring to... was the boy.**_ "

"W-what?" Tyro finally spoke up.

" _ **You... may be more a forgery than the memories you fight alongside**_ ," Cosmos warned, " _ **Heed me.**_ "

"Cosmos!" the child shouted, "I still have so much to ask you!" To Sazh, Tyro seemed oddly desperate, and this felt out of nowhere. But the goddess had piqued Tyro's curiosity in a place where the boy was most uncertain; the nagging feeling that he wasn't _real_.

 _ **"Come with me, child**_ ," Cosmos continued, " _ **I will give you the answers you seek**_..."

Tyro stepped forward, and held Cosmos' hand. And with a flash of brilliant light, Cosmos and Tyro were gone.

* * *

 _Next few chapters are more focused on exposition and daily-life. Expect more plot not to show up until chapter 9!_


	6. Fuck Riddles

**Fuck Riddles**

 _Zone IV  
_

Led by King Cecil of Baron, Zone IV was impressive. It was fortified with short brick walls, and within the encampment these hard structures enclosed different groups. Much of Cecil's party was made up of royalty and the stone divisions were only created to show reverence and respect for the various nations that were represented (even if there was only one representative from that nation). Damacya, Fabul, Lunarians, Mysidians, and Eblan. The corner for Mist was rarely occupied by Rydia, who hung out with Edge or the summoners from different realms for much of the time.

Golbez and Fusoya stuck together on many occasions, even in the rare case when they weren't in the Lunarian corner. But Golbez wasn't there now, and Fusoya meditated alone. Despite the horrors Golbez had wrought under the influence of Zemus, there wasn't much bad blood in the camp. In fact, the only one that was ever ostracized was Cecil's Dark Knight. It was Cecil's mirror image; his opponent in the Cave of Trials. It never spoke, and didn't really play well with others.

The Baron section sat in the direct center of Zone IV. And in the center of Baron, sat the little prince, alone. Ceodore grumbled angrily to himself. After being introduced to Tyro, the two had become fast friends (though, this didn't mean Tyro ever really brought the other boy along on missions). But Tyro felt a kinship with the boy, and had been keeping Ceodore in the loop regarding the newly summoned gods. But even Tyro wasn't sure about the meaning behind all of it, and relayed his confused similarly.

Naturally, Ceodore didn't appreciate that the information he was getting was so _cryptic_. And from what his father had told him, Cosmos was usually _even more cryptic_ , keeping many things close to the chest from her Chosen. If Ceodore had reavealed the truth to his father, Cecil would be _amazed_ at the clues Cosmos was blabbing to Tyro; which Tyro in turn blabbed to Ceodore and Onion Knight. Still, this actually-open Cosmos was saying things that were fairly difficult for the boy to decipher. And it was frankly annoying.

"Argh! How can anyone be expected to understand what's going on when everyone's so vague and metaphorical!?" Ceodore griped, "Seriously, _fuck_ riddles!"

"What was that?~" From outside of the tent a voice answered. It was sweet and beautiful, yet the sound of it greatly disturbed Ceodore. He visibly recoiled. It was his _mother_.

"Ceodore..." Rosa spoke, "I do not think that is a word befitting your nobility."

"I don't-" Ceodore started to defend himself. His mother wagged a finger at him. An aggressive side to Ceodore had become unleashed upon reaching this world, and he couldn't quite keep still or calm.

"I love you. And I want what's best for you," Rosa said, "But maybe you need to remember that royalty is about setting an example for others."

"It is important to be an symbol to others that you can be proud of, Ceodore," Rosa chastised.

Ceodore groaned. Here, there were many around his age that he could hang out with. Some were fairly childish and annoying to talk to, but all of them sounded like better conversation partners than getting stuck with his parents- Every. Single. Day. He didn't want to be remembered for his father's title or actions. He was a _soldier_. He wanted to _prove himself_. But he rarely had the opportunity with his mother's coddling.

"I understand," Ceodore sighed, exasperated.

"I will ensure to set the precedent of dignified culture among the other youths. As such, I really must be going- I bid you adieu, mother!" Ceodore chattered quickly, and left just as fast. Rosa didn't flinch.

At first, before Ceodore was summoned, she worried for her boy. A lot. But perhaps him being summoned was just as worrisome. What was he learning from the motley group of miniature societies in this world?

* * *

 _Zone XV  
_

Controlled by Prince Noctis of Lucis, the fifteenth encampment was almost at the edge of the halls. Despite its nearness to Zone XIV and the Tactical Zone, its inhabitants rarely socialized with their neighbors; or really _any_ of the other records (for now). This wasn't surprising. The members of Zone XI were the same way at first, but warmed up as the months went on. So perhaps so too would the taciturn prince in time. That was all the hero records had; _time_.

"Noct!" Prompto crooned, "You ever been summoned by a god before? Besides being messed around with by the Astrals, I mean."

Noctis thought about it for a moment.

"I have," the young prince replied, sparing few words.

"They said you were a part of a round with Materia? She's not one of the two gods that we got on our side now though, right?" Prompto jabbered.

"Something like that. Yeah, I'm sure I've never met Cosmos and Chaos," Noctis responded.

"Is that why you don't _care_?" Prompto crooned again as he spoke.

Somehow, nothing Prompto did ever made Noctis annoyed. He had become the prince's brother and best friend.

"... Yeah, that's probably why," Noctis said finally.

He had pondered whether or not he was in a precarious position before; since he and his friends were the most recent faction to form. But Noctis realized he didn't really give a crap what he was doing. He had been abusing a time loop to enjoy bro times, road trips, and hunts with his closest friends for as long as possible. This time-out was a godsend, maybe. Realistically, he would do anything to keep his friends happy and alive; and be there with them.

* * *

 _Atrium  
_

"Welcome to another time with _Gogo_ ~" sang Gogo, "Whatever will I scrutinize todayy~?"

The mimic skipped along the fifth zone, singing to himself. Honestly, though his own zone was his _favorite_ , with his favorite people, it was also the most _boring_. Sure, if anything bad happened to one of his 'friends', he would _leap_ into action and... watch and write notes in the background rather than help. But nothing ever _did_ happen around here.

Prancing east, he headed out, and kept bounding along, straight through several zones. He received strange looks from some of the records, but he paid it no mind; continuing his song and dance for himself.

Finally, he reached the center atrium. Past the marble columns and near the fountain, he noticed a group of women from various zones standing around in a circle.

'Mingling women warriors!' Gogo thought, 'Perhaps _this_ will provide some interesting situations to jot down!'

Taking a moment to pull his journal from one of his many pockets, he furiously began listing the women.

'Lightning, Celes, Paine, Beatrix, Agrias, Minfilia' he wrote, 'What reason would our steeliest ladies come together like this?'

Jokingly, he put a title at the top of the page, 'Iron Maidens' and giggled to himself. None of them were at all demure enough to be called maidens, but Gogo could imagine most of them standing grimly over the actual torture device with the same moniker.

Bouncing forward, he headed toward the group and sat on a fountain bench nearby, continuing to write as he eavesdropped.

"We have more than enough people," Paine grumbled, "Let's just pick our advance squad and get on with it."

"Only half of us showed up," Minfilia lamented.

"You said it was optional. Did you really expect _Faris_ or _Aranea_ to go anywhere on our time?" Celes demanded.

"Hell, we don't even _need_ anyone else," Paine spat, "If they didn't want to come, they didn't _have_ to. We have enough frontliners and tanks to take on any simple dungeon run."

"I know," Minfilia responded, "I just preferred more cohesiveness. And now, only _one_ of us is going to have to stay back, _alone_."

Gogo took a few moments to sketch Minfilia on a separate page. It would probably be useful later.

"Won't be _me_ who has to sit out," Paine growled, "We've wasted enough time waiting around and I came here to _cut something down_."

Lightning was one of the women who were silent through this. She could have taken charge, but chose not to. She did enough leading outside of her free hours. Here, she was just the _muscle_ , and preferred it that way. But she also didn't mind sitting this one out entirely.

"Then _I_ will observe," Lightning offered, "And I can give you pointers at the end."

She was passive as she spoke. When Lightning wasn't speaking harshly, she still had an authoritative effect on her peers. The way her husky voice would assail their ears was pacifying; it made anyone feel _safe_ under her watch.

"That would be _wonderful_ ," Minfilia exclaimed, "Please do."

"I will collect our gear for the trip," Minfilia offered, "Would anyone care to join me to the vault?"

"I will go," Agrias spoke up. She was often the first to volunteer for any duty.

Minfilia was pleased. She knew Lightning was a good choice to join her platoon. Though the Scion had duties to her own camp, the event warp wasn't often directed toward her and her fellow Eorzeans. So, she had a lot of idle time. This was perfect for her, since she _loved_ starting and completing projects.

Although Minfilia was perfectly comfortable among the daintier records (with their _tea parties_ and _gossiping_ ), she noticed that many of the more _brusque_ women didn't have a circle of their own, and were often _isolated_ when they weren't among their own realm's people. So, Minfilia surmised that bringing together these autonomous and combative women for dungeon clearing on occasion would improve inter-realm relations. Plus, it made her feel more important.

They didn't all need to be _friends_. But _comrades,_ was an even higher title of respect among warriors like these.

Pleased, Minfilia walked along with Agrias toward the Vault nearby.

"Hey! What the _hell!?_ " Paine growled, "What are you _doing!?_ "

Gogo looked up from his notes to Paine staring _directly_ at him. With one hand, he shut his journal. Gogo cocked his head innocently.

"What are you _doing!?_ " he mirrored.

"Don't _mock_ me, you stupid shithead!" Paine countered, "I asked you a question!"

Under Paine's accusatory glare, Gogo paused and cocked his head to one side. Celes and Beatrix looked on with uncertainty. While Lightning seemed uncaring, looking off into the distance.

Gogo shrugged. With his head and eyes he gestured to his journal with a smile. Opening his hand at the same time, the book opened to the page where he had drawn Minfilia.

Paine, Celes, and Beatrix blinked at the sketch. The portrait was beautiful, particularly in the eyes. The sparkle in them seemed like they overflowed with kindness.

"Don't mock me~" Gogo sang bashfully.

Paine's scowl softened, and she turned away.

"Mimics are quite enigmatic, aren't they," Beatrix said to Celes. Celes nodded.

"Our Gogo is similar," Celes replied.

The women turned back to their dungeon plans as Minfilia and Agrias returned with their armament.

Gogo sighed with relief, but at a tap on his shoulder, he froze. He looked up to see Lightning beside him.

" _Iron Maidens_ , huh?" Lightning remarked. Gogo froze. But the woman simply walked past him, chuckling, which to Gogo seemed surprisingly out of character. He would have to jot this down later.

* * *

 _Outside the Library_

Most of the records had never been to the library. Tyro scant paid attention to that area. He had already spent much of his apprenticeship in the library in the early days. But that was before he had to lead people. There were, however a few regulars to the area. At this point in time, Rubicante sat in the corner; and on the opposite side sat the Cid from Zone XIII. The library was the most secluded place outside of a record, and most of the regulars preferred it this way. But the two could overhear a loud conversation outside. At the moment, Jecht was confronting Kuja and Golbez.

"The curtains fell on that vexation a long time ago," Kuja boiled, "It was an old act, never to be repeated."

"Look, I just wanted to know if either of you had any allegiance to Chaos," Jecht barked, "You don't have to be such a princess. I was curious! _Curious_!" He repeated himself for emphasis.

Although the three: Jecht, Kuja, and Golbez were summoned by Chaos in the 13th and final cycle, they had been originally first been summoned by Cosmos in a cycle prior to that. Jecht himself had been under Cosmos' command up until the 12th.

"I don't see any reason why you think I'd go back to those charlatans," Kuja spoke with snark, "I can think of a handful of others you could be asking rather than myself."

It was true. Cloud, Terra, Tidus, and Gabranth had all _also_ fought under the Chaos banner. They didn't have any allegiance to him by the end though. But more importantly... Why did it matter? Golbez couldn't fathom what Jecht thought was happening.

"But yer so secretive and off to the side," Jecht continued, "You can't help but look _suspicious_."

"The source of this questioning..." Golbez spoke slowly and hauntingly, perhaps merely because of the echo within his helmet, "Do you have reason to believe Chaos is gathering followers? Trying to rebel against Tyro?"

"Calm yourself. What kinds of damage do you imagine a few stray records could hope to accomplish in a stagnant world like this?" Golbez asked.

Jecht rubbed his chin and grinned, as though he were thinking for a moment. Truthfully, he wasn't really thinking about anything. Too much of what Golbez said, Jecht didn't understand. It didn't matter, because Jecht didn't even really care. If he had been asked to fight under Chaos again, he'd have even considered it a little, if only to have a little fun.

"I dunno, I'm just seeing where you guys stand. Just a feeling in my gut, you understand?" Jecht laughed, "Maybe there's nothing going on! I know!"

To Jecht, everything here was like a game. One where he got to fight monsters with his son for all of time. Or where he could listen in on worthless drama and _laugh_. And nothing was allowed to destroy his little paradise. Not while Jecht had a warrior's fire in his heart. This wasn't like being _forced_ to kill _thousands_ while he was inside Sin. This time, he didn't want the Dream to end just yet.

"Tell me..." Golbez continued, "Are you _that_ curious about our activities?"

Jecht brightened up at this. He hoped this would be juicy. Or something that would give the man someone to fight. Or _both_.

"Yeah! It gives me something to _do_ 'round here till they call me in for a dungeon run," Jecht grinned, "Fill me in, Golby!"

" _No_ , you can't be thinking about having him _join_ us," Kuja started to exclaim, "Not _this_ loudmouth lughead!"

Jecht laughed at this. Insults only ever did one of two things to the man: if he found them funny they would bounce off of him, but if he didn't find them funny, the right words drove him into a rage. It mostly depended on who the words were _from_. There were a few records that Jecht would take it from because he had learned it was in their personality to be _uptight_ ; like Auron, Kain, and Kuja. But many others could easily get on his _shit-list_.

" _Yes_ , I think Jecht should know. Tyro's shown the man more favor and boon than most of us," Golbez uttered, "He would make a fine member of our ranks."

Kuja stuck up his nose. But inside, he didn't mind all too much. Sure, Jecht was much louder than the other members, but it was also true that he was _powerful_. Better yet, he was one of the few familiar faces that didn't _dislike_ Kuja. The Genome pretended he didn't care what others thought of him, but even _he_ could feel _lonely_.

And sure enough, that was the day Jecht would be inducted as another one of the unionizing morally-gray records, the 'Grays'. In actuality, the man had been unknowingly onto something with his gut feeling. Though Chaos himself wasn't planning on getting involved, many of the villain camp were keeping quiet for _something_.

The Emperor had poked his nose into the gossip drifting through the zones, and thanks to the loose lips of the many children, he had learned much. And so Emperor Mateus started to work his beliefs into the others he shared camp with.

Their numbers were too small, and their individual strength wasn't at the necessary peaks, but, it would be a cold day in hell before the Emperor allowed himself to become irrelevant, and many of his compatriots shared this opinion enough to deign to work together too.

The Grays. The Villains. It wasn't exactly uncommon for interrealm groups to form, but these were two of the larger groups. The largest group was mostly composed of the healers would have tea together. Cosmos' Chosen also met up on occasion. The records weren't limited to any one group, as there were so many groups one could be a part of. Many fraternized with those that had similar upbringing, or those that were currently dead, or those that were masons, or those that missed their children. And of course there were the groups that formed up of heroes of similar occupation.

Because of this, no one really paid any much mind to the Villains. There was no precedent for what happens if someone's out of line.

So when it _did_ happen, it was huge.


	7. What About the Others

**What About the Others  
**

 _Library Upper Level  
_

Cloud stood at the precipice atop the library roof. Without railings, it was easy to jump from balcony to balcony. From that height, he could look on over much more of the land than most other places. The air was refreshing, cool and clean as it entered his lungs. The crosswinds were welcoming him.

Cloud surveyed the surrounding campgrounds. He could see children swinging their legs happily on benches. He could see couples walking arm-in-arm. Veterans trained younger warriors in sword stances. Fist fighters sparred in the distance. And masons were building a new zone. It was such a warming society to watch and be a part of.

But then, Cloud spotted Sephiroth. It wasn't hard to spot the large black cloak and ridiculously long silver hair, even if Cloud wasn't looking for him. Sephiroth stared blankly at the Daily Dungeons. A crowd of Cores gabbed as they entered and exited the area of their camp. The few who spotted Sephiroth lowered their heads and turned away. After a moment, Sephiroth turned to look up at the library. It was eerie that Sephiroth always knew what direction Cloud was in.

From afar, it seemed as though Sephiroth made eye contact with Cloud for a moment, before smirking and looking away. Cloud couldn't be sure. But he grit his teeth with displeasure. Cloud wanted to feel a little joy about his little home away from home. He wanted to, so badly. To be relieved in this outlet where he got to see Zack and Aerith _alive_ again. But he couldn't. Not with _Sephiroth_ here. And worse, Sephiroth was so strong here. _Again_. It was _infuriating_.

With a pause, Cloud turned to walk back into the library. It was as though he tasted something rotten.

* * *

 _Zone 0  
_

An empty plot of land was cleared for new hero records years ago. Despite the 'Beyond Zone' being needed before this one, Zone 0 had been set aside and left vacant for a while, much like Zone XV was for a long time. Now, cottages were finally being built here entirely through volunteer work.

When it came to crafting, Tyro looked to Cid for help. Cid decided to outsource to other Cids, namely the Cids from Zone IV, VII, and XIV. He would also regularly call upon the help of Josef and King Galuf, among others. Cid (RK) had gathered all of them to quickly finish the cottage for the new encampment. He was only the foreman for the hero records though; he didn't join in their camaraderie. He hadn't realized when he gathered them how _annoying_ it would be to call each other by the _same name_ with all the Cids in the group.

"Let me get this straight; we're building this fer some spoiled kids?" Cid (VII) Highwind griped. Most of the group had difficulty relating to the young'uns, but Cid (VII) had the least patience out of all the masons.

"Yeah, but one of 'em was apparently worthy enough to fight for the gods. At least, for round two," Cid (XIV) nan Garlond responded.

"Don't let it get to you," a voice came from behind. Y'shtola walked nimbly, smoothly across the dirt to the circle of old men, "Children surprise us, don't they?"

"Good to see you," Cid (XIV) said.

"So these Agito kids... they any good?" Cid (XIV) asked the Mithra. Y'shtola nodded in response.

"I knew Ace well enough. If his classmates are all like him, we'll have a formidable force. I hear they are well-trained and versatile," Y'shtola said.

"So, they're from some magical academy? Like the Zone VIII kids?" Galuf asked. Once again, Y'shtola nodded.

"Oi oi, I'd been wanting to ask you," Cid (VII) interrupted, "You met Ace when you met Materia, right? Anything we should know about them 'gods'?"

"No, they are nothing to worry about," Y'shtola spoke. Her voice exuded inner strength with only a word. She was powerful from early on, and as Tyro favored her, she only became stronger.

Truthfully, Y'shtola was beginning to tire of being asked questions about Materia and Spiritus, from the second the Clash of the Gods. If instead, she had been a part of Cosmos and Chaos' match, things would be different. Y'shtola would have had something to compare it to. _Some_ answers to give.

But since she didn't, Y'shtola felt the heroes should be hounding the likes of Shantotto and Golbez for answers rather than herself. These 'gods' were likely no more or less real than any other celestial being the heroes had come across in their travels. It was, for a long time, her own sworn duty to defeat the Primals in her own world. She wished everyone would just do what they were needed for, and stop running around griping about things like 'gods'.

* * *

 _Zone B_

The 'Beyond Zone' stood in the very last lot of the camps. It was so far isolated that its extremely few denizens rarely went there for anything other than reading or sleeping.

Lann and Reynn were twins, yet fairly opposite. There probably wasn't a good reason for them to be here, but they had to make due. They were quite similar to Tyro, in their own world. And still sort of respected the fact that they were hero records.

Reynn returned from the third zone in a huff. Zones III and IV were places the twins often frequented to socialize with the younger hero records there.

"That damn Desch. He's such a flirtatious Ancient," Reynn said, exasperated. At this, Lann looked up from at her.

"That pretty boy? He flirts with _you_?" Lann asked, surprised, "I guess it's true. He'll flirt with _anyone_."

"Wh-What's that supposed to mean!?" Reynn countered, "I'll have you know _some_ people around here treat me like a _lady_."

"They just don't know how _strict_ you are yet," Lann quipped.

"Ugh! You're such a little kid, you know that?" Reynn said.

"You're still only a few minutes older than me," Lann replied, laughing. He paused for a moment.

"You can ignore him," Lann said softly, "That's just his way of being friendly and hiding his emotions. Apparently, he has someone he misses back home."

The two longed for someone to miss back home. Perhaps they missed Tama, a little bit.

"But hey, if anyone less harmless gives you trouble," he continued seriously, "You can count on me, okay?"

"I'll be fine," Reynn replied, as she shook her head, hiding a smile.

They shared another typical sibling moment between the two. That is, before it got quiet again. Honestly, it was a little lonely here.

"Man... Pulling us into this, then disappearing...! Whose idea was this DeNa!?" Lann griped to the ceiling.

"Lann!" Reynn shouted at her brother, "What did I say about breaking the fourth wall!? Ix-nay! Abort!"

"What? It won't rip apart the fabric of reality or anything... Will it?" he cocked his head.

She found it quite concerning and had to chastise her brother so often. No one could know what they know.

"But you know! I'm just frustrated since we never get to make any appearances!" he continued, "Maybe we should get another event!"

In truth, she also agreed with him on this, it was frustrating at how little they ever had to do around here. They both sighed.

"So..." Lann changed the subject, "Desch is an Ancient? Like Aerith?" Reynn looked at him, puzzled.

"I'm certain I've spoken to you about this!" Reynn chastised, "Are you even keeping up with your studies?" But Lann looked at her, incredulously.

"It's bad enough that we never get to fight, but you want me to _study_?" Lann asked, "Loosen up!"

"All we do is play all day with the other children," Reynn retorted, "When we go back home, don't you want to have brought something with us? Accomplished something? The only thing we can bring is our wits, after all."

"You just don't get it, Sis," Lann continued, "Back home, there's like _no one around_. Getting to know the champions personally is more rewarding, don't you think?"

Reynn hadn't considered this. Lann had a good point for once, and Reynn wasn't so invested in busywork that she couldn't consider what he was saying.

"So... what, we're here to make friends?" Reynn inferred, puzzled.

"We're here to have fun!" Lann answered, "To get the chance be kids again, with like-minded adventurers."

Reynn sighed and looked down. Perhaps she would check out the temporary little tents in Zone 0 and see if any of the Academy kids were like her. She _was_ invited to the girls' tea party. Perhaps she would ask Deuce about them to break the ice.

* * *

 _Outside the Nightmare Dungeon  
_

Delita looked on at the crystals of the Nightmare Dungeon. He was certain that he didn't belong here, among the _wicked_. But he recognized that many of Ramza's troops looked at Delita with _disdain_. This was especially true of Agrias, who even went so far as to _hate_ the man. With red and golden armor, he quite stood out among the blues and blacks adorning his neighbors here. Like Sephiroth, he was able to find commonground with Vayne and sometimes Seymour (though, this didn't mean Delita could have much conversation with Sephiroth despite having the same group of 'friends').

That day, Chaos glided into the villain camp. Garland strode up to the approaching Chaos with a swelling pride in his chest that he hadn't felt in years. Head held high, from beneath his armor, Garland grinned.

"Chaos! You have returned!" Garland roared. The giant beast didn't respond immediately. Without flapping them, with his wide and many wings he soared (only a couple of yards above the ground). When he reached the center of camp, he slowly descended.

The God of Discord landed softly on the grass, which immediately turned smoldered pink, then gray. Ashen achromatics spread from the point where the bottom of his feet touched the ground. The embers formed in the trees until they were only black skeletons of what they once were, and the hilly ground shook and leveled flat. In the distance, Sephiroth could hear faint choral music. He ignored this, as Sephiroth in fact heard many things that were not there. This was just something that he never shared.

"Good! To be here, with me! We have much to plan! Much to destroy!" Garland yelled. He was still eager to wreak havoc on the fools who underestimated him.

" ** _What would that accomplish?_** " Chaos spoke slowly but booming, " _ **Settle down**_ _ **, Garland**_."

"But that can't be! You remember, right? Before our final battle. I revealed to you... You are me. I am you!" Garland's yell was shrill but thunderous. Chaos turned his head to look at the banished Cornelian knight. How young and naive Chaos once was.

" _ **What I remember... was you trying to take advantage of my memory loss. You named me 'Chaos' after your mistake**_ ," Chaos said this flatly, as though it weren't a big deal. Chaos remembered everything now. Everything.

Chaos was originally a creature made from crystal, imbued with the life force of ten people. He had been raised by Cid of the Lufaine and his wife. He was a weapon to be used against Omega. From a young age, he was told that if he didn't fight, his mother would be killed. So he complied. When his mother eventually ran away from this life, another crystal manikin was made using her DNA. This perfect replica of his mother, made to control Chaos, was to one day be called _Cosmos_.

Chaos thought back. A divergence was created in the time stream. The dream of a child, treated as a beast. A nightmare; where Cid and his wife tried to rescue the distraught and hateful creature. Chaos' mother was shot. In the creature's great hate, he opened a rift in space that brought in himself, Cosmos, and Cid. Chaos was, at first hesitant to face Cosmos, so similar to his mother. But Cid orchestrated the details with Shinryu, in order to generate enough energy to take them all back home; the gods would need to fight.

Cosmos was the first to summon warriors on her behalf. And Cid placed Garland under Chaos' command to steer him into being the god of discord. And so began the Conflict of the Gods. It was the Warrior of Light, a manikin created in the image of Cid of the Lufaine that led the most important skirmishes against Chaos in the latter cycles. When both of the gods were defeated, the summoned warriors returned to their homes.

Now, Garland fell to one knee and bore himself before Chaos.

"Do you spite me?" Garland questioned.

" _ **None of this matters, foolish knight**_ ," Chaos uttered.

"Why!? Why doesn't it matter!?" Garland demanded. Chaos nonchalantly peered at the armored man. Chaos bent to sit on the ground. With one hand, the earth rose and formed, creating a chair beneath him. Instantly, Chaos was on a throne again.

" _ **The boy**_..." Chaos began. Immediately, the Emperor perked at this and moved to listen more closely. This could be important information, he felt.

" _ **He's a copy**_... _**he's a legion**_..." Chaos said, " _ **Ten million Record Keepers... fighting so hard**_."

" _ **So p**_ _ **ointless. Existing only to defeat an unending darkness**_ ," Chaos continued, " _ **A**_ _ **darkness which, if it could be completely eradicated, would destroy every Tyro, and every hero record**_."

This took a few onlookers instantly by surprise. The Cloud of Darkness glowered and hissed.

" _ **And still, this world may sooner just end on its own**_ ," Chaos said, " _ **The**_ _ **forces that created this realm have disappeared. The world might decay at any moment.**_ "

The air was silent for only a moment. In either scenario, it was likely that all of the records would disappear to. Would they return to their homes? Many of the heroes were keen to make this happen. But not the villains. Many of them would go back to being deceased. Only the Emperor was pleased at these revelations; he now had proof that would attest to his plans; surely this would further gain the cooperation of the others.

"Why... Why does it have to be this way?" Garland was distraught. If he didn't change something before the end of this Record Keeper business, Garland would have to go back to where he came from. Back to realities where he dies, over and over again. A cycle of his own making.

Sephiroth took the opportunity to step forward.

"Explain," he uttered a single word.

' _I refuse to be only a memory._ '

* * *

 _EDIT: Whoops, midway through their conversation, I switched the twins' names. Thanks reviewer for pointing it out!_


	8. The Grays

**The Grays  
**

 _Zone IX  
_

The denizens of Terra and Gaia were shorter than average people, similar to the people of Zone III. Headed by Queen Garnet Til Alexandros XVII, the Nines' platoon was encamped in the very center of all the camps. In the very center of that center stood Garnet's tent. Much to Captain Steiner's chagrin, _Zidane_ was named Hand of the Queen. He was by her side whenever he wasn't on a record excursion. Despite being considered a rather rowdy zone by comparison to others, it was also probably the happiest zone. There was, however, one taboo subject. No one was allowed to talk about what will happen to Vivi when the darkness is destroyed. It was... too hard. Garnet's team was a _family_.

Garnet was proud of her set of guardians. She was often compared to Yuna; and for good reason. She was a summoner that needed to save the world. She had a childish relative, in Eiko. She had a stern lancer, in Freya. She had a grizzled monk, in Amarant. An stern woman paired with a man who is good-hearted but hard-headed, in Beatrix and Steiner. And she had her love, Zidane; someone that brightens everyone's heart (e.g: Rikku, Kimahri, Auron, Lulu, Wakka, Tidus respectively). Garnet regretted that she didn't have much of a bond with Quina. And out of love for Zidane, Garnet didn't speak ill of Kuja (often).

"Pardon me!" the young queen called out. From across her table, Amarant could be seen walking past the open entryway of the tent. Garnet stood from her seat and strode around the room to the tent flap. Garnet's tent, in particular was rather large. Zidane often joked that a circus could perform in Garnet's room. However, Garnet had it made this way to become an open-audience base of operations for meetings and the like. This did not please Zidane, as he quite liked to saunter around naked in his and Garnet's shared tent.

Despite Garnet's call, Amarant had continued walking past Garnet's tent. He'd heard her; this was clear to both of them. While Garnet found it rather impertinent that Amarant didn't wait, secretly _the_ Flaming Salamander of all people, was soft-hearted on the inside, and had legitimately _slowed_ his pace so that Garnet could catch up. He usually walked a bit more briskly whenever he had to pass by Garnet's tent just to avoid the risk of accidentally seeing a naked monkey-boy out of the corner of his eye (Zidane didn't feel it was always necessary to be dressed in his and Garnet's shared tent).

Amarant mainly pretended to ignore Garnet at that moment because he had a reputation to protect; a reputation of having an indifferent attitude toward everyone. That was just _expected_ from him.

"Wait a moment!" Garnet said, busting out of her tent, and she paused before Amarant Coral. At this, the man decided to stop. However, he did not turn around. Once again, he was putting up a facade of disregard. One might wonder _why_ he would act in such a way. It might be deemed insincere and fake. However, Amarant did this out of habit. He was a quiet, and thoughtful man by nature. But by now, he'd stopped caring about his emotional deficiencies. He'd realized this during a card game with Setzer, as the gambler had been egging on the former mercenary (and the others in the room) to step outside of his comfort zone, with a 'Come on Red; just chat up one o' these fantasy beautes here!' ... Though, Amarant couldn't quite imagine doing that kind of thing anymore. Even when he was just a guard, he wasn't one for socializing.

"Alright then. Fess up. What is it?" the man said brusquely. Red dreadlocks swayed in the light breeze. Amarant often stood stone-still as he spoke and listened. It was his training that he remembered. A serenity that he honed over years.

"Where are you going?" Garnet asked. At this, Amarant wasn't quite sure how to answer, but decided to tell the truth. After all, he wasn't specifically asked to keep it a secret.

"I'm heading to the Hall of Rites," Amarant said.

"Is... that alright? That place isn't sacred or something?" Garnet asked. At this, Amarant wanted to chuckle. He and a few records from the different zones would often meet in the Library and the Hall of Rites. He knew people didn't really visit the Library as often mainly because it was always kept so quiet. Most records didn't want to disturb the readers. But Amarant hadn't known why the other records were so rarely in the Hall of Rites. Of course, the claim that the area was off-limits in any way was entirely false. While within the hall, Tyro and Dr. Mog would often walk by Amarant and his friends without anything other than a greeting at most.

"It's fine. It's a little hallowed, but its not forbidden to loiter there," Amarant responded, finally.

"May I ask... what you are doing there?" Garnet asked. Her curiosity often got the better of her. And since becoming Queen she had only become a little more confident and entitled about it. At this, Amarant once again paused to consider whether or not to be honest. His "friends" in the Grays didn't all always share their information and theories, but as Amarant considered it, he kept justifying to himself that he was never told to keep everything on the down-low. Though, maybe there was simply the expectation of discretion. No one among the Grays was particularly talkative.

"I meet with comrades," Amarant said. Garnet blinked at this.

"Is Zidane there?" Garnet asked, hopeful. At that moment, Amarant finally understood what was bothering the Princess. After Garnet's team had defeated Necron in their world, Zidane stayed behind for Kuja. After his disappearance, Garnet lamented him as lost for some time. Now, he was inseparable from her. For someone so attached to go off on his own without telling his partner seemed rude, but Amarant knew where Zidane was.

"No, he's not there," Amarant answered. At this, Garnet looked a little discouraged. She wasn't at all used to being the clingy one in the relationship, but their relationship dynamic drastically changed after they finally began seeing each other. She wasn't sure what to do about it either. Some of the girls had told Garnet that she was supposed to just ignore it and be as clingy as she needs, but it bothered her.

A small part of Amarant was hoping for a follow-up question. A 'Then do you know where he is?' just so that he could answer, to appease her worries. But Garnet didn't ask. So Amarant swallowed his pride and offered her the information unsolicited.

"Zidane..." Amarant spoke brusquely. Garnet perked at the name.

"Hey. C'mon, he's just worried about Kuja; been keeping an eye on him," Amarant said.

"Why?" Garnet asked, getting a little more worried, "Is it because of Chaos?"

"Well that sparked everything but... Chaos and Cosmos aren't so important," Amarant responded, "Zidane's worried because Kuja's meeting with some shady guys."

"Shady... people?" Garnet asked, quizzically, "What kind of people is Kuja meeting with?" Garnet didn't realize Amarant was making a joke, in his own way.

"My comrades. He's just another one of me and mine," Amarant replied. At this, Garnet was even more surprised.

"Who else besides you?" Garnet asked.

"Kain... Shadow... Leon..." Amarant trailed off. There were too many to name. Dozens of the records were at least partially affiliated with the Grays.

"Wha-Huh? I don't... What?" Garnet stuttered, flabbergasted. She certainly hadn't expected some sort of friendship to have formed between Amarant and Kuja, let alone a cornucopia of the enigmatic records. But as Garnet opened her mouth, Amarant had begun to walk away.

"Wait!" Garnet called. This time, Amarant didn't slow or halt for her. He simply left. His steps were great leaps, going from the ground, up posts, and from rooftop to rooftop. He felt he'd said enough. He cleared his conscience; and let her know that Zidane was fine. That was all she needed to know. Though, Amarant knew Garnet wanted to dig deeper, but he didn't even have all the answers anyway.

'The only dependable thing about the future is uncertainty.'

* * *

 _Outside the Hall of Rites_

In this crystal fortress, a pristine gallery of glassy fragments lie in rows upon rows. The walls shone transparent but also reflective. It was like geology museum and a hall of mirrors, but with icy floors. The 'Grays' were a group of hero records that regularly met in these halls. They were dubbed this by Echo, who stumbled upon the group once. She had said that they seemed like a bunch of gloomy weirdos.

Prishe stood outside the Hall of Rites with arms crossed. She didn't let things get in her way. Directly in front of her, Seifer scowled. He didn't really care for the Grays' agendas, he just liked being a part of another Disciplinary committee. As far as he was concerned, he was a loyal knight to the Grays; not one of the schemers, but a part of the group's muscle. He felt it necessary to be loyal to _some_ cause, after all. However, he really did not want any trouble with Prishe. The 'Abhorrent One' was well-known for her fierce strength and low restraint.

"CEASE." Fujin ordered.

"No! I get to join your edgelord boy's club, got it!? And that's final!" the small Elvaan said. Now realizing what it was that she wanted, Seifer didn't really see any reason to deny her, and didn't respond immediately. However, Raijin stepped forward to be the one to argue with her.

From nearby, Rubicante snickered. It was rare for the fiend to laugh, but even he found certain things funny. At the same time, a wistful Meia began to count on her fingertips. Prishe had called it a 'boys club'. Well, the Grays didn't have a good ratio, but that might be inevitable in a world like this, with so many more male records.

"Then, at least give me a good reason!" Prishe continued, "Tell me what you guys are up to!" Despite getting her way, even her cheerful disposition sounded like demands due to the volume of her voice. Gabranth, who had been in the area, bristled at the bruiser's demand. He already didn't enjoy seeing Shantotto, who had once burned him to death during the Conflict of the Gods. Prishe had been just as violent, just with her fists.

At this point, Jecht began walking over, as Seifer didn't seem particularly keen on staying at his post. Fujin and Raijin were also beginning to get indignant.

"IRRITATING." Fujin said. It was odd that she and Raijin could keep up conversation when most of her responses were single-word sentences.

"Yeah! We don't have to deal with this, ya know!" Raijin cut in. They were itching for a fight, actually. And Prishe was too.

"Now, now. Everyone calm down," Jecht said, as he stepped in, "These guys and us, we all don't end up doing much, little lady. Just a lotta talk in my opinion."

Jecht tapped Seifer on the shoulder as he made eye contact with Prishe. The Disciplinary Committee strode away in response to being relieved of duty, fuming a little bit. The Bronzed God-Among-Men was an old friend of the Abhorrent One. They had served together under Cosmos as two of her most Pivotal Squad Leaders in the early cycles.

"Whaddaya mean?" Prishe replied, "I thought you guys were trying to save all the dead heroes! We got like dozens o' them!" At this, Meia began counting on her fingers again. She counted thirty men and a handful of women hero records that were dead in their homeworlds. When the darkness was destroyed, when everyone would go back home; would these few dozen go to an afterlife? Would they cease to exist?

Prishe wanted to help Lion. It wasn't clear what had happened to her in Vana'diel. Had Lion died? She had sacrificed herself into a crystal, and Prishe couldn't help but feel that this world was the kind of place where she could _save_ Lion!

Jecht, however, didn't want to give Prishe any wrong ideas. If such a motivation was spread about the Grays, they would have too many people poking around, hopeful: Would Krile try to save her grandfather? Would Gordon try to save his brother?

"No. They ain't doing it for me and the other dead," he responded. Most of the dead records were at peace with their deaths anyway. And the ones that weren't, were generally the villains who deserved their fate. For the most part, all of the hero records were soldiers, ready to die for a cause. They understood sacrifice, and didn't particularly value their lives so highly. The Grays were no exception to this.

"Then, what are you all meeting up for? Why have I heard you're gonna let in a little of the darkness?" Prishe demanded. Jecht wasn't surprised that Prishe thought as much. The records had likely been gossiping, and the man didn't know if he could get past the notions Prishe already had.

But at that moment, Cosmos appeared. A wide-eyed Meia adds another number to her finger count. Cosmos was arguably dead, and by her appearance now, possibly a new member for the Grays.

'That and... chalk up another one for the girls' side,' Meia thought.

Cosmos rather liked the Hall of Rites. She found it aesthetically pleasing. In that moment, she was deciding whether or not to make it her permanent home. Her other options at the time were to stay in the atrium, or live with the Warrior of Light; neither of which were places she particularly cared for.

Prishe was in awe. She was pleased that she had picked the right people to visit at this moment. It was practically a whim, really. And also with this, Prishe knew she could bring in one of her best friends, Warrior-guy; someone else still loyal to Cosmos. She had _hope_. There was a way to change their fates _._ She was _certain_ of it.

'The light of the dawn's on our side today!'

* * *

 _Hey guys, I know I make Prishe sound a little obnoxious in this chapter, but she's actually my (not-so-secret) waifu (along with Y'shtola). I didn't do justice to her, but whatever. Instead, I just dropped wayyy too much money on gems today so I could draw her BSB and SSB. Haha_ _._

 _Give follows, reviews, or favorites so I know I gotta continue!_


	9. Answers

**Answers**

 _Orb Festival Event Dungeon  
_

Noctis stood at the forefront of the Orb Festival Dungeon, geared and ready. He was fairly used to grinding. With his sword in hand, he walked forward into the gleaming entryway of the golden hallway. Immediately, five cactuars approached him.

The cactuars chattered and warbled feverishly. One at a time, they charged forward. Noctis didn't even blink at their appearance.

Noctis jumped to the ceiling and slammed back down into the center of the group of monsters. With a ' _Sky Grinder_ ' Noctis had killed all of them at once. With one hand, in a single fluid movement, he scooped up the five greater orbs and turned to face forward. He pushed all of his force onto his right knee, and _sprinted_ forward. With quick strides, Noctis was already halfway to the exit of the floor, only to immediately be blocked by a giant cactuar.

Without stopping, he swung the Engine Blade at the creature. It wasn't enough to kill it in one blow, not with 'Fast Learner' equipped instead of 'Solitude'. Noctis takes a hit, but immediately strikes back to finish the beast. Again, he leapt forward toward the opening to next floor only to be blocked by enemies once more.

This time there were two chimera charging forward. Carrying all his weight into his strike, Noctis pushed a ' _Crushdown_ ' forward, making massive waves of physical force spread outward and smash the faces of the chimeras, allowing neither of them to even touch him before being blown backward then falling. With all the enemies cleared, he slowly straightened up and began walking down the stairs.

It was odd that Tyro wasn't using up his stamina to farm orbs. Noctis had never seen the boy deign to complete these duties before. He hadn't been here very long, but other records also expressed their surprise at the boy's distant attitude lately.

'Are you gonna sit around doing nothing just because that boy is?' Gladiolus had said to the prince, 'You intend to follow his example?'

Noctis listened to his shield. He usually didn't like to, but this time the prince felt _weaker_ than the other zone leaders. The rest of them were at the height of their power. And this was a matter of meeting the same requirements, the expectations set by Noctis' predecessors.

The prince of Lucis was a prideful young man. If he could help it, he wouldn't allow himself to fall behind. If he started out already behind, then he would catch up. No, he would surpass his peers.

He saw the opportunity to train, and he took it. It was both to help himself and Tyro. The determination in his skull flowed outward, sizzling the sweat on his face.

Noctis remembered his father. He remembered the lessons her learned in becoming a man that can be relied upon.

With his thoughts elsewhere, Noctis continued his rampage through the dungeon. After clearing a floor, he would turn back, and repeat the same floor again, rather than move on. When he was tired, he waited hours to recover his strength; like a monk in meditation. This way, Noctis cleared over a dozen floors that day.

* * *

 _Outside the Daily Dungeons_

With a furrowed brow, Squall sat on a bench under the red sunset of a day ready to end. It was _too hot_ to wear his signature jacket. Seeing no one around, he shed the accursed thing and rest his head far back to face the sky. Clouds moved slowly, as Squall listlessly wondered if they were even _real_. The science of the world they were in wasn't ever explained. The records had never ventured past the edges of the Royal Archives to other parts of the so-called kingdom.

Squall heard the sound of someone sitting down on the bench next to him. He lazily turned his head to a familiar spiky-haired blond. Somehow, they had become like friends.

"Cloud," Squall grunted, "What's up?"

Cloud slouched over his knees looking down at his hands folded together. He clenched his eyes closed, then opened again. Closed once more, then open again.

"Something's up," Cloud submitted. His head hung heavy on his shoulders. He'd had to have too many _conversations_ today. Too many explanations per incessant questions.

"You're telling me," Squall confirmed. He couldn't relax either.

"Tyro's barely left his room," Squall continued, "And when he's here, he's not _really_ here."

"It had to be something Cosmos said to him," Cloud replied, "Sazh says this started after she disappeared with the kid."

"Maybe the Tyro we knew never really came back from that conversation. Just what could she have said to him?" Squall asked.

"Dunno," was all Cloud said.

As they spoke, another man began to saunter past them. He wore dark clothes, and his hair strikingly resembled Cloud's. Noctis gave the pair of men sitting on a bench a passing glance before moving on toward his encampment.

"Prince Noctis," Cloud called out. Noctis turned back to his addressee, straightening up. He wanted to cross his arms over his chest, but inhibited the habit to avoid seeming anti-social.

"Just 'Noct' is fine," Noctis spoke. He was exhausted from his dungeon runs, and hoped night would come soon so the air would cool down. This wasn't like back home, where the fall of night signified coming dangers. Here, it meant time to relax.

"Noct, then," Cloud called in a low voice, "Join us." It wasn't meant to sound rude, or like an order. But Cloud wasn't really capable of asking 'Would you join us?' Rather, if Noctis had said 'no' Cloud would have thought nothing of it. But at this request, Noctis paused. Cloud was a few years his elder, and Noctis had some respect for him and Squall. Though, the displaced prince didn't really want to stop and chat. Rather than respond, Noctis stepped toward the bench and sat with them.

"Adapting as a new zone leader?" Squall queried, half-heartedly.

"There's not much I have to do," Noctis responded. He didn't mean zone leaders didn't have many responsibilities, but rather referring to the Fifteens not having many missions or members yet.

"So far," Squall replied.

"Good job getting some training in," the mercenary continued.

"Thanks," Noctis was curt, but didn't intend to be impolite. This was fine; if there was ever any other men that would empathize, it was these two.

"I'm ready for anything," Noctis indicated, "I'm hoping I can get a few more final Memory Crystals for the rest of my team."

"Good luck with that," Squall soured, "Tyro plays favorites with those."

"It took a long time before I had a full set of five members in the realm fully unlocked," Cloud noted.

"I only recently got five," Squall said gruffly. Noctis blinked in surprise.

"Is there a queue?" the prince asked. Squall nodded.

"You'll probably get another crystal soon. But for more you'll have to wait in line. Or get lucky with the relic draws," Cloud offered.

"Yeah," Squall agreed, "Tyro prioritizes people with better soul breaks to the front."

"Good to know," Noctis groaned. It seemed his assimilation here into building up a fully fleshed out zone would take longer than he thought.

"How did you pick who to max next?" Noctis asked. Cloud blinked. It took him a few moments to remember that far back.

"I didn't get a choice," Squall answered, "Though, no one in my zone had anything that would have impressed me anyway."

"I chose based on need," Cloud recalled, "Back then, didn't have very many healers topped off."

Noctis continued to ponder. He didn't really have a preference.

"All right, I'll think about it," Noctis sighed, standing up.

"Heading home?" Cloud asked.

"To rest," Noctis responded. Without a goodbye, he separated from the group. When he was no longer in earshot, Cloud and Squall continued.

"He's alright," Cloud noted, "It's too bad for him he's kind of like us."

"That's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say," Squall said, totally serious.

Cloud shrugged. The two continued to sit, without either of them getting animated in their conversation. By looking at the pair, one wouldn't expect the weight that they carried on their backs. But they had to persevere. It's what it meant to be a leader.

* * *

 _Atrium West Wing  
_

After days of snubbing his master, Tyro had expected the moogle to just up and _find_ the boy, seek Tyro out to give an explanation of some sort. But Dr. Mog never pushed a conversation. This was odd. The master was generally pretty demanding. But by now, Tyro had spoken to Cosmos for hours. Now he _knew_. _Everything_ (well, what he thought was everything, anyway). Dr. Mog surely had to be avoiding Tyro back now. This was the only plausible reasoning the boy could think of. Tyro knew the truth; Dr. Mog was hiding out of shame and guilt.

'He... he _lied_ to me!' Tyro fumed.

Tyro was made to believe he was a hero. That he was protecting the records of the grandest moments in history, and that the darkness would seep into the past and destroy reality. It was a source of pride for the boy, that he was the main character; saving the day. How does it feel to save one's heroes from destruction...? It was grandiose. It was the All-Star gathering of all the greatest men and women Tyro had grown up hearing stories about.

But Cosmos revealed the truth.

All the things Dr. Mog had said. Nothing. Naught. No to _all_ of it. _None of these records were true parts of history_.

The stories Tyro was told were 'records' were only _fictional_. And the boy was just a _pawn_! Just a cute protagonist to watch, as he cleans the _books_. He was no hero. He was a _custodian_ the entire time! And him cleaning the _shit_ was the _whole point_. Each _story_ was someone's final dream, his fantasy, a fairy tale; that is recorded. And Tyro is placed by this record in order to protect it.

On the one hand, Tyro loved those stories, the _final fantasies_ of his heroes. And despite learning they were fiction, he would still be dedicated to protecting those stories and those heroes. Tyro would work and fight as hard as possible for _them_.

At least... that's what Tyro thought.

But then he had learned... _none of his efforts mattered_.

The truth was, if an event passed by, and Tyro didn't clear it; _nothing would happen_. He was led to believe he needed to fight monsters to extinguish dangers. But in the end... the legends of Cloud Strife would never _change_ or become _corrupted_. Tyro could just as easily _stop getting relics_ and _stop grinding_ and there would be _no change_ in Tyro's fate. _None at all_. Nor would there be a change in the fate of the Royal Archives, the kingdom, or the hero records. And now he _knew_.

He pressed his hand to face and wrenched his skin. _None of that so far, was the worst of it_.

If all of that wasn't enough, Cosmos had revealed something... _monumentally_ disturbing.

Tyro was told Nine-24-14 was the day when everything changed and the kingdom fell into darkness. But in truth... _that was the day Tyro was created._ That was the day Tyro was _born_. And... _all_ of Tyro's previous memories were _fabricated_. Nothing was real. His past, his personality...

Tyro wasn't a prodigy, student, loyal to his kingdom. He was a _worker_ _ant._ A _clone_. And there were _ten million_ other Tyros... Each with their own identical Royal Archives. _None of this mattered._ He, and an endless army of Tyros would banish the darkness for all time. And the darkness wasn't _real_. It was just an idea. A reason to fight. There was no victory. These heroes would never return to their _fictional_ homes.

Cosmos and Chaos were so powerful, they could _see_ it all. They weren't _blind_ to the ways of this world like everyone else had been. And they weren't afraid to be open about it. But Dr. Mog _knew_ , Tyro was _positive_.

Cosmos still had more to say. She said that this artificial reality was governed by a high power. And they would run day deplete their supply of heroes and stories to draw from. The event warp would one day stop opening. And Tyro would be able to tell when the summons were... the bottom of the barrel. The most niche participants in the lore. Cosmos and Chaos' inclusion as a hero record was merely a sign, that they were _running out of heroes to gain_. Time was running out. When time ran out, would everyone simply cease to exist? Were they on borrowed time?

There was another piece of information he learned. If, 'the darkness' ever stopped coming, that meant the world was ending. It meant Record Keeper was canceled. And everything that he knew and loved would disappear forever. All of his work and resources, gone. It was terrifying to know that the opponents he had been fighting had been the only sign from the gods that his world deserved to continue its existence.

But should Tyro care about this? He felt so... inconsequential in the face of the multiverse of different Tyros doing the same work. And he felt so _unimportant_ , compared to the day before. With the darkness being imaginary, and the hall of records being fabricated, how much could Tyro care about the end of this world?

Tyro was distraught. He grit his teeth and cringed and cried angry tears. His cheeks burned with frustration and as he teared up, torn inside. Through his watery eyes, the lights around him blurred into a swirl of colors, and Tyro cried all the more. He cried because he _knew_ that despite _all_ of his gripes, and the betrayal, the _lies_ , and the **_pointlessness_** of it all- that Tyro would still- _still_ continue to clear- _every_ dungeon- _every_ day _._ And he'd never miss an event or free relic draw... It was what he was _created_ for. It was his _purpose_ and his _passion_.

'It's all that I know.'


	10. To Become Real

**To Become Real**

 _Zone XIII_

Any plebian can tell a person was from Gran Pulse by listening to their accent. This is something Hope took notice of as well. The young man (whom was not in any way a linguist) wasn't satisfied with this notion though. He wanted to place _exactly_ what it was that made Vanille sound so... _sweet_. He hated himself for thinking it; because he found Vanille rather _aggravating_ much of the time. And, he didn't want to be categorized the same as any other 'stereotypical guy' that falls for the charms of the cutesie ditz in the short skirt. And yet... he couldn't help but appreciate her other qualities; Vanille was wonderful to him. She had accepted him like family, over and over again. She comforted him when he complained, and she motivated him when he mourned. This is what Hope was thinking about, at that moment.

Hope sat patiently, waiting for Cid Raines to come. The two had arranged to meet in the home base. While some of the other records who didn't know the stories from Zone XIII were quick to dismiss Raines to be some mini-boss or villain, the l'Cie of Zone XIII stuck together like glue. Cid was welcomed by the Thirteens with open arms, as though he were a _hero_. Cid couldn't helped but be touched by this. His own guilt complex was, at least somewhat abated, thanks to that. That was, until Cid Raines had joined the Grays.

To some of the Thirteens (Hope included), the belief was that the Grays wanted to ensure that Tyro _did not_ succeed in defeating all of the darkness. This way, the battles would never end; and the dead would live forever. When Hope came to Cid with concerns about his allegiance, the Brigadier General was mildly surprised.

" _That's_ what the populace thinks we're doing?" the man was flabbergasted. It was probably the biggest outburst of emotion Hope had seen from Cid since becoming a record. Hope noted this.

"Listen, I'm not _eager_ to return to being an _envoy of the dead_... But we're no _saboteurs_ ," Cid had said.

So, Cid proposed explaining the Gray's ambitions to the lad later, before being judged. Hope was _quite_ receptive to this idea. There was nothing better than clearing the air, gaining information, and regaining control. And so Hope awaited the man in his tent. As a big supporter of punctuality, Cid Raines did not leave the young man to wait long.

With a rustle, Hope turned to see Cid opening the flap to the tent. The usually pensive man was calm, cool, and collected. His facial features had softened over the past year.

"Hope, I'd like to get straight to the point," he said, "I'd like to explain the goal of the Grays."

Cid's voice flowed out of his mouth like smooth molasses melting over food. Hope hadn't expected this. He didn't want to get sweet-talked, but it was possible that Cid was being entirely legitimate, and this was simply his natural charm.

"We don't want _this_ to end," Cid started, "But not in the way you think."  
"We believe that if the time comes when the darkness is completely destroyed, when no more event warps are created; then this world will cease to exist," Cid said.

Hope was disappointed that he was hearing what he had expected. The Grays were beginning to sound more and more like the paranoid cult Hope had heard it to be.

"And so what, you're going to let the darkness permeate? So Tyro's mission never ends?" Hope asked, "Some are calling this Valhalla. And many of the dead records are willing to stay here rather than perish to nonexistence in their homes, is it not the same for you?" At this, Cid shook his head.

"Believe me, there is a way to ensure that Tyro's story does not die. And we don't need to let the darkness run amok," Cid continued, "That idea was merely a thought-experiment to better understand what we're _doing_ here."

"I'm _certain_ there is a way to bring you, the living, back to your respective realms," Cid asserted.

This surprised Hope. He had always thought the Grays had no intention of returning to their homes. Yet, what Hope was hearing entirely countered the core goal he believed they had.

"I know the day must come when you go back," Cid said, "I know this, because you are instrumental in setting up events in your future, for other realms." Curiosity piqued in the young man. Hope wasn't too clear what was in store for his future, but perhaps he had a _responsibility_ to return to the Academy.

"... How do you plan to change anything?" Hope asked.

"Tyro has to become _real_ ," Cid finished.

"What does that mean? And what does that entail?" Hope replied.

Hope hoped Cid would further explain himself. Cryptic bullshit was rather _extremely annoying_. Despite this, Hope's hope would not be fulfilled.

"I'm not sure how yet," was the gist of Cid's answer. He was a studied man, a general. He had some engineering knowledge. But he wasn't adept at using philosophy to fuel something metaphysical.

At the very least, on the far opposite side of the court, there was someone else who was getting more leeway out of his questions.

* * *

"How do I become real?" Tyro asked, he spoke slowly but deliberately. Someone couldn't be mistaken at the tone of his voice. This was not a question, it was a _demand_. Across the table, Dr. Mog lowered his head in shame. Tyro had cornered the doctor, and finally confronted the little man about the various _truths_ underneath their world.

'The kid knows,' Dr. Mog lamented to himself, saying nothing aloud just yet. The was the a deep silence as the moogle steadied his breaths.

" _Kupo..._ " was all the tiny man managed to mumble. That is, to him, it was closer to saying 'Gee...'

Dr. Mog had been dreading this day. On the one hand, he _was_ privy to more of his and Tyro's existential dilemma, but on the other hand... _Dr. Mog was essentially just as much of a pawn as Tyro was_. He was the handler. He was created to guide Tyro in battles, and that was it. But _here_? He had no instructions for _this_.

"Answer me!" the child cried out, he was becoming desperate. For such a young mind to have such strength with what he knows... it was _baffling_.

"I have... theories..." the moogle muttered, before trailing off.

" _Theories!?_ Are you kidding me?" Tyro yelled.

"Let me get this straight!" the boy started, "We're somewhere between _cleaning fake messes for eternity_ and _ceasing to exist entirely without warning_."

"And all you have for me... are _theories_!?" Tyro screamed; frustration exploded outward from his face, his mouth, his eyes. For a kid, he was quite fierce. But this wasn't unwarranted. This was the desperate frustration of someone finding out their life was a _lie,_ and that he had a limited but unknown amount of time left.

It would have helped if Dr. Mog's expression would change. But as per usual, the same face stared back at the boy. But inwardly, Dr. Mog was desperate too. He wanted to give the boy some _hope_.

"We could... try to become legitimate parts of the timeline!" Dr. Mog started.

"Doctor... what..." Tyro cried softly. He was, after all, only a child. No matter how much respect he garnered from _everyone_ , Tyro was still just a little boy.

"Wait! Just wait, _kupo!_ " Dr. Mog urged, "Think about it! W-What if you had a _storyline_? We could make a new hall! The _FFRK_ Realm!"

"You could have a _team_! I-I'll join you in dungeons, too! P-Perhaps we will bring in, _find_ another Keeper, _kupo!_ " Dr. Mog continued, "A partner! Or a love interest! Either way!"

"A-And.. O-Or... we can give you a rival! An anti-hero, _kupo!_ " Dr. Mog was babbling now, "Doesn't it sound _cool_?" The little man tried, he did. But Tyro wasn't hearing anything of it.

"I-If you had your own journey to complete, think of how many updates that would take! We could stall the end of the world by months! Perhaps _years_!" Dr. Mog exclaimed.

"... _That doesn't mean anything would change_ ," Tyro replied. At this, Dr. Mog was silent. Because, Tyro was, in fact, correct. It was kind of pointless. All it would do, would be to make the world real _only by its own definition of real._ The moogle cast his gaze downward, as he reflected. After a moment, he spoke up again.

"Tyro... do you know how to complete a story, _kupo_?" Dr. Mog asked.

"How to _..._ What _?"_ Tyro responded dryly, but was puzzled at this.

"You complete a story... by writing an _ending_ ," the moogle said, "...This way, we'll get to choose how and when our world ends."

Dr. Mog wanted this to be clear to the boy. The current plan was to stall and continue adding new content; gaining obscure hero records and then; create an original story. If this was successful, then they might no longer have to worry about some ever-looming instant and permanent server shut down; which was fairly likely to happen _at any given moment_.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the 'storyline' had another purpose. The only way to avoid an eternity like Sisyphus, _repetitive_ actions for _nothing_ was the one day have an ending. The hope was, that they would have some control over this. But was all of this enough to become _real_?

"Dr. Mog," the boy began, "I don't just want to stall. And I don't have any desire to write an _ending_ for us. What I want... is to become _canon_."

Dr. Mog was wide-eyed. Well, it was the right _idea_. The truest way to become real, and a legitimate part of the time-stream was to become canon within the Final Fantasy Universe. But how? The hero records would need to _go back to their own worlds_ and be affected by Tyro in some way _moving forward_. Tyro would then live on as long as any other hero. He could become a 'Final Fantasy' by his own right; irregardless of if he saves the day.

"How do you intend to do that, _kupo_?" Dr. Mog inquired.

"I... I'll just have to _rewrite the records_!" the boy said defiantly. Dr. Mog didn't respond. Normally, this would be _completely_ unacceptable, bordering somewhere between _sacrilegious_ and _abominable_. But the moogle knew that their circumstances were desperate. It certainly called for breaking _fictional_ rules set by a _fictional_ kingdom that had put them in this situation in the first place. He couldn't approve aloud, but he couldn't object to the boy. Not anymore.

* * *

 _Uh oh! What will Tyro want to change? Well for the impatient, note that_ _chapter 11 and 12 are mainly discussions about that very subject. But we don't see Tyro's (bad) first attempt at taking action in chapter 13!_


	11. Making Changes

**Making Changes  
**

"My friends..." Tyro announced, "I have something to say."

A crowd had formed around the boy on his soapbox (well, his pedestal was actually a crate). Tyro didn't have any intention of telling _everyone_ right then and there. How would he possibly gather everyone around in such a way that they could all hear? It would have to be the responsibility of the records to spread his words.

"I've learned that we've fallen into a pattern of strife similar to the likes of 'The War of the Gods'," Tyro began,  
"And I don't want to follow that same never-ending cycle, putting you all into battle in my name without any resolution."

"I learned of a greater threat, but it's something that we can all avoid!" he said. Murmurs could be heard amongst the crowd. Hushed deliberation sprang up in various corners of the gathered members of Tyro's pantheon.

"To do this... we're no longer gonna follow the script of your pasts," Tyro continued, "I will be the hand that guides our destiny!"

There were gasps of wonder, there were laughs, and even whispers of those that actually _preferred_ their current Purgatory.

"I know it's frightening, and maybe I'm out of my depth," Tyro admitted, "But I haven't led you wrong yet! I'll keep researching, and make sure I don't fail you. So don't lose faith in me! Follow me to a new dawn!"

A smattering of heroes cheered, mostly by the records that had no idea what Tyro was talking about, but whose loyalty was cemented in the boy. There were also a few light clappers, these were the records that were polite, but still pondering the implications of Tyro's words. Many of the Grays left to converge and discuss this in the Hall of Rites. As well, the Villains dispersed to their own devices, without word, but seemingly unperturbed by this. Maybe everything would change, because of this moment. Or maybe... nothing would.

* * *

 _Zone VI  
_

Relm and Celes sat together in Terra's tent, waiting for their squad leader to return. Though, Celes was more like the actual leader (especially in battle), the excuse of waiting for Terra gave the woman more time to think about Tyro's announcement. From what she understood (which was admittedly not enough), Tyro was planning on sending in records into their own realms to literally change history. Perhaps to save someone who had died, or to allow a boss to pass without destroying it, or maybe to thwart a villain's plans _early_. She had no idea what the implications were of this.

She thought this was possibly _fine_ in and of itself, at least initially. But very quickly afterward, some of the Sixes had begun deliberating among themselves. The group was composed of Mog, Edgar, Cyan, Strago, and Relm. And though they were saying things Celes wasn't completely privy too, she held her tongue and waited for them to fill her in. After a short conversation, Cyan left the group to consult Celes.

'Good,' she had thought, 'Now I won't have to _demand_ they tell me what they were talking about.'

But Cyan wasn't very clear (even though, by now Celes could clearly hear through his accent). He asked whether they could talk to Terra about giving Tyro some _suggestions_ as to what he can and can't change in the chronology. And apparently, the Sixes had quickly assumed that they would be unusually more _relevant_ in making changes for Tyro. With this assumption in mind, they wondered if at the apex of altered timelines, the Sixes would have to get stronger to compensate for any possible new threats.

Anyway, fast-forward to now, Celes had her face pressed into her palms. She was stressed out. Relm stared off to the outside of the tent, perhaps appreciating the colors, or perhaps her mind was that of an empty child; Celes couldn't be sure.

"This... this is _stupid_ ," Celes griped, "I don't see why we have any responsibility here."

Relm turned to the woman, with childlike innocence shining from her eyes.

"We're just asking you to think about it a little..." Relm entreated, "We could really have a much larger undertaking than the other records."

"We... we responsible for sealing away all magic, remember?" Relm spoke softly, "So we're probably... the last Story, right? It wouldn't make sense for any of the other worlds to take place after us."

"No! _No!_ Someone probably undoes the seal," Celes responded. Celes didn't know who, or how. She didn't care. She used to treat the child differently. But after seeing Relm develop as a powerful little lady over their travels, Celes couldn't help but think of Relm as an equal (mostly).

Relm was mature, and looked to the future. Many heard the tale. The world where Marche had been born... _no magic_ , _no monsters_... Was that always eventually going to be the final fate for fairy tales? Celes didn't want to believe that their actions practically ended the possibility for legendary heroes and fantastical adventures to arise.

"Look, Relm, honey, think of the Fifteens. Aren't they probably... from our future? Maybe _they're_ last," Celes hypothesized.

That was something to consider; that the last scraps of magic may have been destroyed in Noctis' timeline. Relm hadn't the opportunity to learn much of the Zone 15 lore. Celes, however, (who had spent a good deal learning about Lucis) was merely throwing a curveball to throw off Relm. The Ex-General didn't really have any notions as to _when_ Noctis' world happens. Really, Celes simply wanted Relm to shut up about it before the two of them met with Tyro. Because Tyro too, enjoyed this crap _immensely_. And Celes didn't like being rude or annoyed to Tyro. She was quite partial to the boy (platonically). Many forget that Celes, no matter how serious and skilled, was still only a young woman of 18. That is, assuming she didn't have to count the years she wasn't aging here in the Hall of Records.

"Besides, I still don't see why it matters. If anything, it's the _earliest_ story that should be relied on the heaviest for rewriting the canon," Celes continued.

"But if we're at the end, or even _near_ it; I think... we're going to see heavy changes in our realm," Relm said, "And that means... we're going to have to be responsible for adapting to a world that will change the _most_."

* * *

 _Zone VIII  
_

From the back of the tent, Laguna, the President of Esthar, stared across the room at his son. Squall's features would remind the whimsical widower of Raine, Squall's mother. Laguna thought about her a lot, actually. For the short time they were together, his young wife had been the source of much of the joy in his life. Laguna's aged heart was refreshed when he remembered of her. But... he would never see her again. And Laguna missed her so. But here, he had a new opportunity to watch over and support Squall. This was, of course, to Squall's annoyance most of the time.

Commander Squall was highly respected among his comrades. Though, this wasn't always the case. When he began his journey, he would have never believed himself fit to lead others. Squall had been insecure. ... And resentful. His friends worried about his episodic switches between angst and disinterest. But after becoming Chairman of Balamb Garden, he had no choice but to step up and meet everyone's expectations.

Laguna thought about time travel. He thought about Sorceresses and Goddesses moving heroes across time to change fate. This had happened to Squall. The Warrior of Light. Maybe even here; maybe _this_ was the same.

'With time travel... can Raine even be saved?" Laguna wondered. He was older; more jaded than he was when he was younger. And yet, even after decades, he had kept his childlike sense of wonder and hope freer than that of most others his age.

'But how?' the man thought. He had had theories that Raine was the direct descendant of the Dark Knight, Sir Leonhart. Could he pass some note down the family line? No, that was silly. Even to the light-hearted veteran, lauded by the faries, that plan was _too_ silly. And what kind of information could even have saved his wife?

In his deepest heart of hearts, Laguna knew he had to accept what had happened. He was mature. He had learned to live with losses his entire life. But a note... A note? A... note... ...Laguna was fairly certain that by his era, technology was advanced enough that the note idea could be sent _forward_. That seemed more plausible than sending a note down the Leonhart line. The effect would do nothing to save his wife but... couldn't he save Zanarkand before it's destroyed? He wasn't positive, but he had a theory that the Tens come from a decimated future of his own world.

Despite all of this, rather than bring up his thoughts aloud, Laguna wanted to just make small-talk instead. This was because Laguna felt responsible for the boy; he didn't want to trouble him with issues that were existential in nature.

"So, your little friend is a member of the Grays now, right?" Laguna started. Squall couldn't pretend he didn't hear the man speak. It would only end up becoming more troublesome. But it was difficult to answer the question. Obviously, Laguna was referring to Seifer, and Squall's knee-jerk reaction was to say 'He's not my friend.' But at the same time, Squall didn't want to say anything of that sort; he didn't feel it was a passive enough response. Just bratty.

"Whatever," Squall said. This wasn't much of an improvement from what he almost said. But, he hadn't reached the level of self-awareness to realize how trite and worn his usual answers were.

"Laguna," Squall spoke up, "You're thinking about something pointless again, aren't you?" The boy had changed the subject. But it was true. On the one hand, Laguna didn't know how Squall was so perceptive, but on the other hand, it still sounded _weird_ hearing the boy call Laguna by his name. It's not like the man expected to be called 'Father' or 'President' or something like that; but after all those times that Squall was just a voice in Laguna's head, it felt so _unfamiliar_ to be addressed this way.

"Yeah, you caught me," Laguna answered, "But you know, it's out of character of you to care."

"I don't care," Squall responded more defiantly than he intended, "I just... think you should stop."

Laguna's aged and tired eyes looked sadly back at Squall. The boy wasn't wrong.

"Yeah, sorry," Laguna mumbled, "I... can't help it. I want to help people." Laguna thought he sounded a little noble, a little cool. So, he corrected himself.

"No, actually... I want to help myself," he forced a chuckle, "I really just want to change things for _me_ too, you know?" For all Laguna had done to save citizens, for all smiles and words of encouragement, underneath it all he was actually a tragic character. Squall saw this firsthand, and didn't know what to tell this oddly-honest Laguna. Neither were acting like themselves, and this was beginning to feel like some sort of sappy moment was coming on.

"Keep wanting that, then," Squall said, after a pause, "Just don't try not to live too much in the past."

Rather than continue the discussion, Squall got up and left. Laguna looked on, a little shocked, but mostly proud.

* * *

 _I was originally going to avoid anything AU-like. But, I've decided to take some liberties with their actions so I finally have the framing device to expand on each of the realms' lore. And as usual, any comments/reviews/favorites will let me know I need to update sooner._

 _Have a good summer!_


	12. Thinking About Implications

**Thinking About Implications**

 _Zone XII  
_

"Emperor Larsa," Penelo chimed. A warm-hearted girl approaches the young monarch with sadness in her eyes and curtsied.

"Greetings Penelo. How was your walk?" the boy responded.

"So-so," Penelo replied.

"You look like you have something on your mind," Larsa observed, "Will you tell me?"

"O-Oh!" Penelo stuttered, "It's nothing, just..." She trailed off.

"Vaan was hanging out with the Threes again. And I don't know them very well... " Penelo started, "So I followed Balthier around."

"And you know... sometimes Balthier hangs out in the Tacts' place," Penelo said.

"I believe I heard Balthier was once displaced from time, correct? He was sent to the future?" Larsa interjected.

"Yes," Penelo began, "For a while, he served under Sir Ramza alongside Balthier's own blood descendant, Mustadio."

"What an interesting dynamic," Larsa commented, "You do keep your ears open, don't you?"

"Thanks, but..." Penelo's eyes turned cold, "Larsa... I was hanging out with Balthier and them today..."

"... Mustadio told me that by his time, humans were the only race left in Ivalice," Penelo finished.

At this, Larsa turned quiet.

"The Viera, the Moogles, the Aegyls... Gone. You'd heard this as well, haven't you?" Penelo noted. Larsa nodded.

"You speak of the _Cataclysm..._ " Larsa spoke, his voice rang hollow.

"... Is it something we can _stop_?" Penelo asked slowly. Larsa lowered his head. He'd thought about it too. He had responsibilities as a leader, but how far did they extend? But at the same time... none of this really mattered. He supposed Penelo didn't really understand, that their meeting here could be imaginary; that they would never return home.

"We... cannot change anything," Larsa spoke finally. He had chosen his words carefully. At this, Penelo simply sat in thought for a while.

* * *

 _Zone XIV  
_

The first thing Yda saw when she awoke as a hero record was Papalymo's face. The poor girl burst into tears immediately and squeezed the little Lalafell until he thought he might burst. With her partner back by her side, it wasn't difficult for the monk to return to maintaining the facade of 'Yda' again. Papalymo pretended to be fairly stoic about it, but he too was touched at their reunion.

Yda was _happy_ here. She could chatter away with her fellow Scions and fight all day. That day in particular, Yda was talking to Y'shtola. Yda had a lot of respect for the conjurer, and looked to her for advice. Y'shtola had always been wise to Yda's secret identity, but never said a word. For this, Yda's overflowing appreciation for Y'shtola had once burst, unable to contain itself.

Today, Y'shtola was troubled, and explained her situation to Yda, who listened attentively. The Miqo'te had learned magic from her teacher, Matoya. She plays a role in the lore of the Ones. Through this, Y'shtola surmises that somehow, the witch outlives Y'shtola by years, perhaps decades or _more_ (Y'shtola couldn't be sure what year this Matoya had come from). Was the old witch immortal? And more importantly, _what had happened to the rest of the Miqo'te? How did they all die out by the time the Warrior of Light is from?_

Upon reuniting with her master in this world, Y'shtola became privy to many disturbing things. It was really only the Hyur that outlasted the races.

Y'shtola also learned of the fate of Doga and Unei, who stayed in the world of darkness. Apparently, they are there for _one thousand years_ and are eventually turned into monsters and then had to be _killed_ by the heroes of Zone III. It was _insane_. More and more of the zones are revealed to be connected to each other, as different instances in space-time. Was Eorzea simply a precursor to any of these other grim places? The truth pained her greatly. Yda didn't have an answer.

'How little of the dawn's light survives the morrow.' Y'shtola thought.

* * *

 _Zone XI  
_

"As much as I'd like to know, I don't expect it will all make sense," Prishe spoke up.

Curilla was getting frustrated.

"Try as I might, I cannot let it go," Curilla replied. She had been theorizing for hours. In the beginning, she had higher hopes.

'If we can find the chronological order to the stories, maybe we can figure out what happened,' she would say. But now... She droned on, frustrated.

"... By the 14th Story, our brethren haven't become extinct. But centuries will pass, and as we look through the lore of the 1st, 3rd, and 9th Stories, elvish people slowly dwindle but don't die out all at once. Perhaps the 10th Story is the last time we see our people."

"... Not _my_ people," Prishe responded. She hadn't much of a close affiliation with most Elvaan after the way she had been treated. If anything, San d'Oria had _betrayed_ Prishe's home country of Tavnazia, causing the deaths of most of the kingdom. And, usually, Curilla's loyalty was tied solely to the Kingdom of San d'Oria, not just the Elvaan race. But with the prospect of the extinction of her species, she had to at least _think_ about it.

"I would ask of you to hold your tongue," Curilla spoke slowly, with patience now, "And further, I want you to consider it objectively; these are our _children_!" Immediately after saying this, Curilla knew she had hit a sore spot. Even after Prishe became mortal again, she would likely never be able to bear children.

"Alright, listen," Prishe began her rant, "You're overthinking it."

Curilla wasn't surprised that this was going to be Prishe's pitch.

"If your theories are right, then _we_ are the past of all the other realms. But what if you're wrong, and the 14th Story takes place before Vana'diel? Think of the _other races_." Prishe asked.

At this, Curilla was speechless. She hadn't considered this at all. Curilla pondered for a moment before answering. The racial politics of Vana'diel were _terrible_ , while Eorzea's sounded pretty tame (though, they had in common in both realms a _heavy_ rudeness toward the halflings, Tarutaru/Lalafell). Curilla wondered if Prishe meant cultural relations disintegrate in her near future. There was something that stood out though... Something huge... The last generation of Galka had _no_ sisters. They could only replicate by a kind of reincarnation. On the opposite side, the Mithra were siring so few sons. Could this have been a curse? A disease?

"You are saying... that the dwindling numbers of our Mithra and Galka... are the future for Eorzea's Miqo'te and the Roegadyn; is that correct?" Curilla asked. Prishe didn't move.

"Our whole lives, we were watching the _end_ of two races, and we were completely unaware _,_ " Curilla concluded. She said it stoically, but inwardly, this thought hampered her thoughts and feelings, suffocating her ability to think.

"There's something else ta consider, now though! C'mon, _what if there's no continuity at all_?" Prishe countered, "These stories are supposed ta be fantasies, right?"

"Yer stressing out about these _stories_ , and they probably ain't even _real_!" she shouted. Prishe was familiar with much more cosmology than Curilla; mainly, through seeing it with her own eyes. So, the knight gave some validity to the cursed child's word. But this is where Prishe's enthusiasm dips into cynicism (then again, Prishe may have just been cranky because she was hungry).

Curilla was taken aback at Prishe's surprisingly rational insight. But perhaps accepting that even Vana'diel _wasn't real_ was too much. But so too would be accepting the _extinction_ of her people. Rather than respond to Prishe, Curilla went back to brainstorming. And Prishe- pulled out a snack.

* * *

 _Zone V  
_

Gogo watched over the camp. He relayed the events of the day to a memo.

Today, Dorgann talked to Galuf about Xezat and Kelger. He was quite looking forward to reuniting the Dawn Warriors if it could happen.

Today, Dorgann sat in awkward silence whilst trying to get to know his son's girlfriend, Lenna. Very little rapport was developed between the good-natured princess and the aged knight.

Today, Gilgamesh sought out quality time (and a duel) with Bartz, but he was nowhere to be found. In truth, Bartz ducked him on purpose. This was fairly predictable.

Today, members of Zone 6 passed by Zone 5 on their way out of the hall. This was common. Cyan and Terra pass by Lenna laughing together with someone.

"Eegad! That man just kissed Princess Lenna on the cheek!" Cyan exclaimed, "Dost thou think it should be told to Bartz? This _frisky business_ here!"

"That 'man' is Princess Lenna's _sister_ , Faris," Terra replied. At this, Cyan was first confused and flustered, but after being given a moment he was immediately both relieved and embarrassed at once.

"O-Oh, my mistake," Cyan mumbled, "Excuse me for my ignorance..."

Today, Krile tried to have an earnest heart-to-heart with her grandfather. She wanted to talk about existential issues and thoughts about the fate of dead records. Now... Galuf was a hearty and grizzled man. Despite his age, he was not known for his patient wisdom. So rather than give emotional support, he gave _man-to-man-_ type encouragement to his granddaughter. Krile smiled at her silly grandpa. All of this, was not at all unusual.

'But all in all, nothing too interesting happened here today. Alas, maybe next time,' thought Gogo.

* * *

 _Zone VII  
_

When President Rufus Shinra awoke as a hero record for the first time, he was quite relieved to see Reno and Reeve. Normally, Rufus could be extremely arrogant in the face of adversity, but... Here, Rufus was _completely_ out of his element. He had little to no men. No clout or resources at all. And Rufus was stuck in this foreign world, surrounded by people who were either huge annoyances or extravagant strangers. Or both.

'Why am I here?' he would think.

Rufus was no hero. He was barely an antagonist to Cloud and his gang of terrorists. Why was he brought here to be one of Cloud's allies? And the few Turks that accompanied Rufus were absolutely clueless as well. They were of no help at all. Of course, Rufus hadn't had any expectations of Reno; but without Reeve's human body anywhere in sight, the man would adopt his _irritating_ Cait Sith persona _at all times_. This was both disappointing and aggravating. Rufus was used to Reeve always having useful things to say. _Now_ he was quite the opposite. Rufus awaited the day Rude and Elena would come. It would come soon, he thought.

Reno would try to use his brain sometimes. One would think this didn't bring Rufus any joy. But at times, Reno's thoughts could be quite amusing. Reno would talk about flirting with the fantasy women. Reno had quite missed the days when he could talk to Rude about these things. But Reno persevered until Rude rejoined them. It was important to the red-headed Turk that he keep up with the romance gossip throughout the realm. This didn't just include relationships, but unrequited feelings as well. This way, Reno hoped to avoid stepping on any toes and steer toward zones with a higher number of single women (like XI, XIII, and XIV).

When Reno opened his mouth today, Rufus assumed it was going to be about women; this was only marginally true.

"Boss," Reno spoke up. He had been quiet for a while now, which actually wasn't too strange. Rufus simply assumed Reno was the type of man that needed a lot more time to put his thoughts together.

"What do you want...?" the spoiled blond asked. There was a droll tone to his voice as though this were a bother, but in truth... Rufus had little to do _most_ of the time. He was almost never called on for battle, and didn't socialize enough with the other zones just yet.

So Rufus was legitimately bored, and in secret, he hoped this would be one of Reno's rarer, funnier gems of poor logic or whimsy. Reno had once spent hours talking up a 'woman', not realizing she was neither human nor interested. This, Rufus found hilarious at the time. Since then, Rufus paid a little more attention to Reno's stories.

"I was talking to Rikku the other day," Reno began, "And she told me something interesting."

Reno was pretty fond of the pretty (and _very_ single) Al Bhed girl. The reputation of President Shinra and the Turks was only slightly negative throughout this world. This was because luckily, many didn't care too much to look into the lore of the other realms; so Reno had a clean slate with Rikku.

"Oh?" Rufus played along, "What interesting thing could she have told you?"

"She mentioned the technical advisor of her ship. A young prodigy," Reno answered, "A guy named _Shinra_."

At this Rufus' interest was mildly piqued.

"Turns out," Reno continued, "This kid's your ancestor. He's the first to lay down the groundwork for the Shinra Electric Power Company."

'So the people of Zone 10 are from our past?' Rufus wondered, inwardly, 'If, hypothetically, someone got Rikku to _take out_ that Shinra, would I, myself _cease to exist_?' Rufus never thought about anything like that for too long though. He tucked the thought away for later, for when it could be more useful. Instead he turned back to Reno.

"Reno," Rufus said aloud, "Are you planning to use your knowledge of her world's future... to get in this girl's pants?"

Reno blinked confusedly.

"Don't worry. I _approve_ ," Rufus noted, "No, actually... I'm _impressed_."

"But uh... sir," Reno interrupted, "I can't do that. Like, even if we ignore the chance that she's like my great great great grandma or somethin'..."

"There's still the fact that I didn't pay too much attention in History and all. I dunno about any events or things like that. I doubt I could impress her."

Rufus scowled at Reno, but then thought for a moment, and realized he was the same as the Turk. They were among the few lucky ones in their world to actually receive an education. And yet, Rufus knew he didn't pay any attention in History either.


	13. Mission Start

**Mission Start  
**

 _Realm IX  
_

Zidane had done it. He'd _really_ done it. Or at least tried to. Under Tyro's instruction, Zidane attempted to alter his own story. The two entered the earliest portrait of the Nine's realm and met up with Regent Cid Fabool IX. Through the painting, they found themselves in the Lindblum Grand Castle, in the conference area at the steps to the throne.

"Hey!" Zidane spoke, "Cid, it's me!"But this was before Cid had ever met Zidane, though he was quite familiar with Baku, and his Tantalus Troupe being thieves for hire. Cid looked at the man with a tail with skepticism. Normally, nobility would be quite concerned that such riffraff had gotten into the castle's upper level so easily without being granted audience. There was no sound of steps, or doors, or elevators, and it seemed like they'd appeared out of thin air. However, Cid was curious, moreso at the boy that accompanied Zidane.

"Good heavens. Do I know you? Should I have been expecting you?" Cid answered, finally. Cid was a man of science, and had quite the impressive memory. It was fairly novel for someone to claim to know him yet Cid be out of the loop. Cid was a little gleeful at the chance to _learn_.

"What species are you to grow a tail...? And what does that manner of dress entail, child?" Cid continued.

It took Tyro a moment before answering as much as he could, without actually giving much away. Indeed, the regent could tell he wasn't being given all the information, and this was a peeve of his. One might think that Cid was a much older man by his grayed features, but he was actually only 36 years old.

The mission was small, and simple; just to test the waters. Tyro and Zidane intended to warn the man not to fool around with tavern girls, lest he face the wrath of his sorceress wife. But instead, Cid was defensive, and even felt challenged to find himself a fling. The regent then began to regale the two with tales of hotblooded heedlessness from the last few _generations_.

But, upon listening to the Cid's history lesson, Tyro's face whitened. The boy had miscalculated. He thought the Nines were fairly early in the chronology, but grimaced upon hearing enough clues that he was quite wrong. The legends of the Ones (and thus the Fourteens and Elevens) and the realm of the Fours (and thus the Twos) _all_ took place before their little trip.

What point was there in changing the timeline if they were later going to alter something further back? All of their changes could be completely undone. The boy sighed that his first little mission ended in _complete_ failure. He and Zidane bid farewell to the regent and went on their way. Meanwhile, Cid wondered if Zidane could be a useful adventurer for his upcoming plans, to help protect the Princess of Alexandria.

* * *

 _Library  
_

Aaaaand Tyro was back in the library. He shuffled his feet across the floor, scuffing his cloth shoes. Tyro climbed into a seat with a dusty book and readied himself to begin reading more about the history of Realm II. After opening only the cover, he let out an intentionally heavy sigh, and nearby records turned to look before going back to their reading. It was quite childish, but Tyro didn't care. This was going to be grueling.

Tyro liked the legends, sure. But he'd already read most of these tomes at least once. Now, he'd be scouring them for information _he already knows_ , simply seeking out discrepancies within his own knowledge. Worse yet, the books he'd needed to review _most_ were the ones that he had the most trouble keeping up with; books on Realms II, XI, XIV, and 0. It's not that their lores were more complicated, but 2 was rather boring, XI and XIV were too many volumes, and 0 felt uninspired _._

As Tyro glared at the blank first page of _History of Fynn_ , he didn't expect Minwu to emerge from one of the aisles.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Minwu spoke, "Ahh, the History of Fynn. Perhaps you might be going to revisit it in the Hall of Records?" His voice was mystifying, yet friendly. Minwu was a leader, a healer, and a scholar. And Tyro supposed he would be _exactly_ the person to talk to.

"Probably... But Minwu, will you come with me to atrium? I want you to tutor me about your homeland, but I don't want to disturb the library patrons," Tyro asked. This wasn't completely true. Tyro was allowed to make as much of a fuss as he wanted in the library as long as Dr. Mog wasn't around. Tyro didn't abuse his authority often, but he might be quite cranky if a hero record shushed him here.

"All right, let us go, Tyro," Minwu accepted graciously. And with that, Tyro was able to avoid more reading.

* * *

When Tyro asked for tutoring, he didn't realize he would be in for a lecture on messing with destiny. All he asked was whether Minwu was among the hero records who regretted dying. But Minwu's journey through the afterlife was paramount to defeating Emperor Mateus. Tyro knew this, but he just wanted to know how Minwu _felt_. It's too bad, but the wizard didn't seem to understand that.

"There is one other thing," Minwu started, "If you ask this of other records, do you not think it might be cruel?"

Tyro opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He wasn't sure where Minwu was going with this.

"For instance, if you asked Josef... might he become needlessly more regretful about leaving his family?" Minwu continued, "Josef was just as instrumental in helping me overthrow the Light Emperor."

"I know, I know..." Tyro grumbled. In the very beginning, Josef had bragged to the boy about his adventures Heaven.

"Are you saying not to change anything in your realm?" Tyro asked.

Minwu looked surprised at this. Or at least, his eyes widened. Most of Minwu's facial expressions were in vain, as none would see them.

"If there is such an option, then yes. I believe that is for the best," Minwu stated simply. Tyro hadn't expected this. In fact, the possibility had never crossed his mind.

"But can't we just kill the Emperor early, before he rises to power?" Tyro asked.

"Killing him is what _made_ him rise to power," Minwu replied.

"Then, maybe we can imprison him, or cut off his arms," Tyro said. This was getting particularly macabre, but Minwu didn't flinch.

"I don't think you understand," Minwu said, "He was such a powerful summoner, and made a demonic pact. Needn't he simply bite off his own tongue and meet the source of his power in Hell all over again? Listen carefully Tyro, it cannot be changed, and it cannot be improved."

Seeing that he had finished his duties, Minwu stood up to leave. Meanwhile, Tyro was deep in thought. There were several times in Realm 11 where time was rewritten completely, was Minwu wrong? Or perhaps was it simply a case-by-case basis? Tyro was _certainly_ no expert on theoretical physics and cosmology. As such, he would just have to do things by trial and error.

* * *

 _Hey guys, I'm going to start delving much deeper starting now. Expect things in the story to get juicy_ _ _. But if you don't care about relationship dynamics, the turn towards the conflicts leading up to the climax begins chapter 17!_ Review, follow, favorite, etc!  
_


	14. Pulse

**Pulse**

Dr. Mog wiped the sweat from his furrowed brow. Summer had begun, and the days were becoming hotter. He looked across his desk to the door of his cramped office; it was left ajar after his last visitor. Tyro had come to research into the moogle's personal files: reports and the doctor's testimony that he'd kept up since the very first day of cleansing the darkness from the record hall. Recently, the boy had been cold to Dr. Mog, though at least Tyro was no longer feeling hostile. For this improvement to the boy's mood, Dr. Mog did anything he could to help.

When Tyro realized he wasn't the only keeper on his mission, the moogle had to explain how Roaming Warriors came from parallel yet different realities. Each of these worlds had their own record keeper, and now the boy could regularly meet and even fight alongside these star-crossed allies (though admittedly, the connection between universes usually failed). It seems that simultaneously to Tyro finding out he wasn't alone, so too did most of the others in their respective home realities.

Dr. Mog sighed. It wasn't as if he too didn't empathize. The doctor knew how crushing it felt to realize... you're not special. Knowing this had made every sentence that he spoke ring hollow. It made every lesson feel meaningless. And Dr. Mog had known this for much longer than Tyro, having to come to grips with this existential anomaly for _years._ No matter how disheartening, they were born to follow through on their goals, and nothing would change that.

The little man scooted his giant armchair backward and plopped onto the floor. It was quite nonsensical that he had to literally climb or hop onto his seat whenever he entered his office, and even sillier that his feet didn't come anywhere close to reaching to floor as he sat. He told himself that the design was kept this way because a tall chair and desk exuded authority, and that with his wings it would be ridiculous to ever complain about a few feet of height disparity. And yet... he couldn't help but feel this was some easily avoidable oversight. When the doctor and _the only_ record keeper in the realm were _both_ shorter than the desk, there had to be some omnipotent god snickering at it like a joke. But when Dr. Mog considered replacing his furniture, he had to wonder if every other Dr. Mog in every alternate reality also had the same frivolous conundrum, or if they stopped holding out much sooner, and already had correctly-sized desks. But by now, Dr. Mog held sentimentality for his desk and armchair.

The moogle exited his office and headed toward the atrium. As he walked, the moogle eyed the Nightmare Dungeons warily as it passed from his line of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted The crystal at the center had been glowing a luminous white and only growing in splendor and power. He expected it would only be a few more months until Tyro had to face challenges he was certainly not ready for. Would Tyro even bother? The boy's newfound plan to 'alter the records' might make up the majority of his time. Even now, as another seasonal holiday festival opened up in the event warps, Tyro was alone with this thoughts, planning and theorizing.

Still, perhaps there was nothing to worry about. Tyro had never failed so far, even when the boy was emotionally drained or busy. Tyro had even kept up his relic draws with a few Ultra Soul Breaks entering the mix. Everything seemed normal and hopeful. Admittedly, this time was different, sure. Tyro had reached the lowest limits of his temperament, but the boy got right back up. Our little record keeper was determined and lion-hearted. So much so, that Dr. Mog wanted to shed a tear. The little boy had been forced to be a man inside, to be properly responsible for all the lives he carried with him.

From behind, the moogle didn't notice a gleeful Kefka approach the Nightmare dungeons and begin to stare at the center, enthralled at the crystal. At this, if the crystal could feel anything, it would have been feeling grossed out and uncomfortable. Seemingly in response to this, the madman cackled.

* * *

 _Zone V  
_

Gogo continued writing in his journal. He hadn't lived to be as old as he had without ensuring to cement knowledge into his mind. Though, he was curious as to the identity of the _other_ Gogo, and wrote more on this in his little journal. Zone 6's Gogo was of few words. Upon meeting, all they would do is copy each other's motions, they were like mirrors for _hours_ until they were pulled away from this bizarre dance. Gogo _did_ notice bright eyes shine from beneath the face make-up under the wraps of a shawl of his counterpart. Gogo had to wonder whether the other mime was a spirit, a woman, or an old man.

It was as he wrote the words 'shiny eyes' that a noise perked the mime from his thoughts and the pen stopped. An echo reverberated around the area. It was difficult to explain, the sound wave was too distorted to decipher. But it felt... discomforting. Like something somewhere had gotten worse, but no one could place what it was. A creature of whimsy, Gogo skipped toward the direction of the echo's source. It was likely that he wouldn't find anything, and in a few minutes he would probably forget what he was headed for and become interested in something else. Gogo was, after all, a curious fellow.

* * *

 _Zone VI  
_

Mog sprinted through the camp to find Locke. Upon hearing his name, Locke exited his tent. But, the moogle saw the man too late, and skidded to a clumsy stop before tripping on his own little feet. Without any effort, the treasure hunter helped Mog to his feet.

"Than _kupo_!" Mog squeaked. This reminded Locke of one of their first meetings, when the man had saved the moogle from falling off a cliff. Then and now, the poor creature was quite rattled.

"What's wrong?" Locke asked. He had taken the role of older brother to a few of the Sixes, like Terra and Mog. But recently, he barely saw the two of them outside of Realm 6 Events. Mog had quite a number of friends now; he would be 'the smart one' whenever he hung out with the beastmen, he would be fawned over by summoners, or he would even tail Dr. Mog.

"That psycho! Kefka! He's up to somethin' I swear!" Mog spoke fast and excitedly. At this, Locke was alarmed, but also skeptical.

"You sure? What can he do in here? We haven't had a villain pull anything funny in all the years we've been here," Locke replied.

"But if there's anyone that could muss things up, it's Kefka, _kupo_!" Mog retorted.

"Well, what makes you think something's wrong?" Locke asked. Mog took a deep breath.

"He was creepin' around _as usual_ ," Mog emphasized this, "Then he went to the Nightmare Dungeons and met up with some _shady_ guys!" But this too, wasn't unusual.

"What, did he meet with up the Grays? Or, no. More likely, that's just where a lot of the villains hang out, right?" Locke responded, "Who cares if him and Garland and the rest of those obsolete nutcases snicker in the shadows?"

"That ain't all!" the moogle clamored, "There was a weirdish redflash that _blinked_ from there for jus' a wee-second, and then I felt a echoing _wave_ uncomfortableness, _kupo_!" Mog was making up words now, but Locke was beginning to take him seriously. He too had felt the wave of discomfort reverberate through his bones. But he wasn't sure what it was.

"The red light... it was at the same time that you felt this?" Locke asked.

"Yes, _kupo_!" Mog finished. But Locke didn't know what to make of this. Although Terra was the leader of the Sixes, this was pretty much in-name only. Locke and Celes usually picked up the slack. And yet, this felt out of all their scopes. But Locke had a duty to assuage his little friend's concerns.

"Don't fret, Mog," Locke said, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, but I'll get this info to the right people. And me, Celes, Terra, and even Tyro... we'll get right on it, okay?" The moogle notably untensed at this.

"And hey, thanks for bringing it to my attention. You did good keeping an eye out," Locke pointed out. A little bit of flattery went a long way with Mog, and he noticeably blushed.

"No problem, _kupo_!" Mog replied. Excited and relieved, the moogle went on his way. He figured he would seek out Umaro, to grunt and nod through another of Mog's stories. Meanwhile, Locke stayed put and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He wondered if perhaps it would be a good idea to keep an eye on Kefka himself before reporting to the others...


	15. Gossip

**Gossip  
**

 _Zone VII  
_

"R-Rude!?" Reno exclaimed, "Is it really you?"

"Yeah. Who else would it be?" Rude retorted. With his arms crossed, his sunglasses and shaved head reflecting the light, Rude looked just the way Reno remembered him.

"How long you been a record? You just get here?" Reno asked. He was excited, and nearly teary-eyed, but he definitely didn't want to show it. It took restraint to stop himself from lowering his goggles to cry. So, Reno hoped he was playing it off cool-like and that Rude wouldn't notice his loneliness. But in reality, Rude rarely noticed or even cared about things like that. Even when he first became a record; after a brief, dumbfounded, wide-eyed, jawdrop moment, Rude could take anything in stride, even being _summoned to fight legendary monsters_.

"Not long," Rude answered curtly. He too held in the urge to hug his friend. But, it wasn't long before the two were catching up. Reno had been here for a couple of years, but time hadn't really moved for him or the other records. In fact, it seemed like the days would just fly by. Despite this, Reno still had much to say.

Erstwhile, Rude and Elena were extremely new to the Hall of Records, though they couldn't imagine _why_ they were needed here. In fact, plotwise Reno was probably an unnecessary addition as well (though apparently there were a lot of 'heroes' here that played fairly minor roles in their worlds). But the bald Turk took it as though it were another job. He just had to protect Rufus, as usual. And this time, he wouldn't be on the opposite side of Cloud's gang; which was definitely a plus.

"Hey Rude, you seen Tifa? She's around here too, of course," Reno started. At this, Rude tensed up. Reno was quite aware of his buddy's little crush and didn't hesitate to poke fun at him for it.

"Yeah... I passed her on the way here, and I could see she was surprised. But... she didn't give me more than a passing glance..." Rude responded wryly.

"Heeyy, don't worry about it! You already came to terms with her shacking up with Cloud. And there's lots of fish in the sea; even here! And now, we don't have that bad rep for being Shinra either!" Reno crooned happily.

"Oh yeah. I see what you're saying. There are some serious beauties around here," Rude said thoughtfully, "You know that girl who looks like a skinnier Tifa? What's her name?"  
Reno thought about this for a moment.

"You saying Tifa's fat...?" Reno asked, a little confused.

" _No!_ No. Not at all. I just meant, daintier than Tifa, 'cause of all that dense muscle she's got packed away. But this other girl's a twig, probably another mage or healer or somethin'," Rude continued, "You know who I mean? Black clothes under a long blue sweater? Angel wings printed on the back? What's her deal?"

"Dude, _Rinoa_? I mean, some of the guys think she's the cutest one here but... Rude, she's like seventeen!" Reno laughed, "Then again, she's been 17 for the past five years... But anyway, Rinoa's totally taken; by one of baddest motherfuckers here."

"Oh... Who?" Rude asked, now asking purely out of curiosity.

"Dude by the name of Squall. Did you see an emo guy with a scar on his face in Rinoa's entourage? Too many belts, all black leather, and a fur collar?" Reno gabbed.

"That _kid_? He's one of the strongest fighters here?" Rude was incredulous. But though he was surprised, he had also learned early on not to underestimate people by their looks. And Rude was sure this guideline would hold especially true in a place like this, where he'd bet there's probably some three-foot gnome or dainty dancer here that could blow up a planet or some shit.

"Well, who's at the top?" Rude inquired. He was still interested in learning the lay of the land here.

"What?" Reno replied, a little distracted; his mind was going a mile a minute at all the things he wanted to share with Rude.

"Who's the most badass guy around here? It ain't _Cloud_ is it? Or damn, is it Sephiroth?" Rude guessed. At this, Reno paused for a moment.

"Oh. They're top tier but... Well, not a _guy_. But damn... Lightning. _She's_ definitely _numero uno_ around here," Reno said slowly.

Reno found Lightning _hot_ , sure. But he was _extremely_ careful not to be in any way disrespectful when speaking about her. He didn't want even the smallest chance that she would overhear. She was _definitely_ not someone he ever wanted to piss off.

"Lightning? What's she like?" Rude wondered aloud, not sensing Reno's apprehension.

"She's like an angry goddess of death or somethin'..." Reno mumbled, "...Sorry man, I'm not too clear on the Thirteen's lore. I keep tryin' to learn more from Fang and Vanille though."

"Fang and Vanilla?" Rude asked. He wasn't all that curious this time, he was just trying to keep the conversation going. Where someone might be annoyed at the questions, Reno was happy just to change the subject.

"Not _Vanilla_ , just Vanille. Yeah, her and Fang are _super hot_. They hang out with Lightning sometimes, but mostly each other," Reno chattered, "You seen 'em? The ones with the accents?" Rude lit up at this.

"Oh! I think I know who you mean. Both of 'em got tribal beads and furs. Legs that go on for _days_? Let me guess, Vanille is the one with reddish-pink hair?" Rude surmised.

"Right! Yeah, that's them," Reno smiled, " _Man_ what I wouldn't give to hang with those two..."

"But pinky looks a little young. And anyway, Elena told me those two are probably _together_ ," Rude emphasized this before trailing off.

"Man! First of all, they've both been around for literally _centuries_. Second of all, what does Elena know? Woman's intuition my ass!" Reno pouted. Though he too suspected the possibility that the two natives from Pulse were, in fact, a couple.

"Well whatever!" Reno continued, "Even if they are, I just said I wanted to _hang out_ with those two. It could be... y'know, just to appreciate. Platonically."

"That sounds a little pathetic..." Rude countered. Reno thought about this.

"Nah man, if anything it's some kinda sexist or somethin' of you to think I can't just have them as super attractive _friends_ ," Reno retorted. He was being defensive and wasn't entirely sure about the validity of what he was saying, but Reno didn't care. Social politics weren't really at all within his field of knowledge, but it _did_ shut Rude up, as he too was out of his depth.

"Hey, maybe we should go befriend them together, then," Rude said suddenly. Reno's face couldn't help but stretch into a wide grin. Sure, it's likely that they had their troubles ahead of them in this world, but _damn_ if Reno's quality of life and happiness didn't just _double_ by Rude's appearance here.

* * *

 _Atrium_

Meanwhile, on the outer edge of Record Halls, Elena was meeting with Aerith. This was a bit out of the ordinary, so Elena was cautious. Originally, the two hadn't interacted with each other much in their own world. Elena was sympathetic to Cloud's gang, sure. But in the past she'd been a little jealous of Tseng's attention toward that particular flower girl. Not too much though, as Elena was certainly more concerned about her job than Tseng's little guilty-crush. And of course, all of that ended when Aerith died, which Elena wasn't heartless to.

But still, Aerith received Elena with open arms. In truth, despite the many headaches they caused her, this Ancient had a history for accepting people affiliated with Shinra nonetheless. Here, Aerith had offered the blonde Turk a seat at a tea party. Normally, Elena was a little bit too much of a tomboy for events like these, but she was also too smart to thoughtlessly turn down an opportunity to make some friends. In addition to this, Elena tried to be polite. So, she accepted, albeit apprehensively.

Aerith was delighted to bring another person from her home-realm. And this made for a _heavy_ contrast to some of the past tea party invitations that were declined over the years. There were a notable number of lady records so _wild_ that Elena's inclination toward being a tomboy might instead make her look like a _shy maiden_ by comparison. And that doesn't even include the _dozen_ women that were in the _stone-cold_ category who were quite blunt about not wanting to attend. Like Paine probably wouldn't be caught _dead_ at such occasions.

Across from Aerith, Yuna sipped her tea happily. Though she'd notably loosened up during the Eternal Calm (and had transformed into quite the outdoorsy type), Yuna could still enjoy activities that required grace; like arranging flowers or weaving (though this, she admitted she wasn't so good at yet). And so, Yuna felt no problem being one of the regular hosts for these events. Though there were other, more genteel members interested in the atmosphere, many of the participants were there particularly eager for some of the little cakes they would eat at these tea parties.

When Yuna had asked Ignis for his help with baking services, he didn't know what he was getting to. He thought it would be a monthly affair, with perhaps a handful people. But the girls would have these get-togethers sometimes multiple times in the same week; and on occasion there have even been as high as two and a half dozen records in attendance. But to Ignis' relief, this was a rarity. And he was quite popular for his cooking skill, sometimes trying out his skills at creating a plethora of different colorful desserts. Though Ignis would sometimes pressure Noctis to join them, to perhaps mingle with the other royalty, it proved too difficult to get the spoiled prince to come.

There were mostly young ladies that attended these, but there were sometimes a handful of young men in attendance. Like Gordon, Larsa, and Edward were welcomed freely, and would come by from time to time. Or Edgar might swing by, to try his luck at gaining a girl's favor, but most of the women just laughed it off; thus the King of Figaro was almost never taken seriously. The few times Edgar _had_ received positive attention, he had begrudgingly chosen to stay platonic and cordial with them, wondering why his charms were only well-received by the ones that were _too young_. He cursed his luck, but kept his chin up for the future.

Edgar stood in line with a plate in hand, ready to try Ignis' Elegant Orange Cake. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Deuce was striding up to him. The man froze in place.

'She's sixteen, man. _Sixteen!_ She's definitely off-limits!' Edgar thought to himself with fervor.

He had been 27 in this land for a few years; and since Deuce was still fairly new here, Edgar couldn't make an exception like theoretically he could for many of the other records here who had been sixteen or seventeen for _years_. But, well, considering where he was standing, he was also certain he couldn't _run away_ ; otherwise the poor girl would notice. After all, no matter how pleasant and cute she was, Deuce was quite _scary_ when she was upset.

Edgar forced a polite smile and made conversation, taking great care not to say anything flirtatious, despite his natural inclination to do so. From nearby, Terra chuckled. She'd often asked the other records about love and flirting and relationships. While she, herself, was likely incapable of such feelings, she still found it quite novel to watch. But out of consideration for her dear friend, she decided to go find a way to join the conversation naturally, and perhaps bail out Edgar by keeping Deuce occupied. Back to the other side of the table, Aerith and Yuna shimmied up to Elena with full plates in hand.

"Welcome! Tell me, Elena," Aerith started, "Is there anything you'd like to know?" At this, Elena practically jumped at the opportunity.

"Can you tell me about the chain of command here? Who are the leaders?" Elena asked. Yuna's eyes widened a little; she thought Elena might ask about Aerith and Zack, or the food, or really just about _anything_ lighter. But Aerith wasn't surprised at all. Even the princesses and healers here were _soldiers_ , and passing a Bechdel test was never a problem. First, Aerith took a bite of her cake. It was delicious, of course. Then, she took a sip of tea and cleared her throat.

"Tyro's our commander. Though he takes advisement from Dr. Mog, we don't take any orders from him," Aerith started, "Here among many of the other healers, Rosa, Y'shtola, and Yuna are typically the unofficial matrons... and sometimes myself. But for exploring dungeons, each zone is governed by a representative from that realm; picked by its residents."

"I'm also the leader of Zone X," Yuna spoke up, cheerfully. Elena was surprised at this. She could tell Yuna was sweet, but now she was beginning to wonder what kind of raw power and commanding aura the young woman held.

"Then, Aerith, who's _our_ zone's rep?" Elena asked.

"Umm..." Aerith trailed off, " _Cloud_ leads Zone VII, but... you'll probably deviate to the Grays, like everyone else in Shinra."

"And Vincent," Yuna added, as Vincent no longer considered affiliated with Shinra by any means.

Elena blinked at this. There was too much she didn't understand in Aerith's explanation. First of all, barring Cloud's physical strength, she felt there were wiser and older people who could have taken that role. But as a newbie, she knew she should keep her mouth shut about that. She had learned, after all, there was also a zone of _children_ run by the Onion Knight. She still had other, more important questions.

"So Rufus doesn't listen to Cloud?" Elena asked. But Aerith shook her head.

"I'm not sure. There's never been any real problem. Cloud asks for Vincent all the time. Sometimes Cait Sith, or even Reno. There's never been an occasion where a Gray didn't want to join a battle when asked by a Zone leader," Aerith replied. Internally, Elena noted that this meant Rufus was never out in the field.

"And what _are_ the Grays?" Elena hounded. At this, Aerith looked around. Seeing none of its members in attendance at the tea party, Aerith decided there was no one better suited to explain it. But Yuna jumped in to answer this one.

"Well," Yuna began, "My father is a member now, and he tells me that they just consider the realm more metaphysically. And they discuss strategies as various countermeasures for... just about anything."

"Like what?" Elena pushed.

"Like, what if hero records started inexplicably disappearing? Or, what if the darkness spilled _outside_ of a record? What if _gods_ started trying to take over? What if the event warp ran out of events?" Yuna listed, "Things like that." Of course, this left Elena _more_ confused, but she persisted.

"Rufus is in a group like that...? But, do we even _have_ options for if things like that happened?" Elena asked. Yuna shrugged.

"I don't know," Yuna replied, "But if you join the other Turks for meetings, I'll bet you'll know more than _me_ soon enough!"

"And with people like you and my father in the Grays, I really feel a lot safer and at ease," Yuna concluded, with a brilliant smile. Elena was as hetero as a person can be, but she couldn't help feel a _twinge_ warm up in her heart at Yuna's adorable words.

That day, Elena made quite a few more friends, from various zones. Like, she was able to hit it off with Ashe and Celes. And Elena felt included, but she also got to gather information. Like, a number of the other denizens were actually a little daunted in the face of Zone VII's modern weapons and clothes. Most importantly, Elena was a little excited now to reunite with Rufus and Reno.


	16. Warmth

**Warmth  
**

 _Zone VI  
_

Terra wasn't feeling well. Sure, she was stronger now, likely one of the strongest mages in the realm. But at the same time, she felt like a withered flower. No, it wasn't a physical sickness, but a loneliness. She _missed_ her children so. The orphans of Mobliz were her very reason to love, to fight. Perhaps they didn't _need_ her right now, as Terra was outside of time. But it was the other way around, _she_ needed _them_. Or barring that, she needed to cuddle a moogle. Then again, while she loved fluffing a moogle's fur, right now it would likely be a poor substitute to ease the emptiness she felt.

She considered the moogles in the realm. Terra couldn't very well ask Dr. Mog for a hug. He was a bit ornery and crotchety; which Terra didn't mind, but it meant the man would probably be quite irritated with her. The same went for Montblanc. And of course, Cait Sith was just a man controlling a robot. But what about her friend, Mog? Actually, Mog was likely with various beastmen of the realm, and Terra's request in front of them would likely annoy and emasculate him. She sighed and wondered if she could just sit around some children. Perhaps the atmosphere of innocence and wonder would metaphorically wrap her in a blanket of some comfort. Though, many of the 'children' here weren't more than a few years younger than Terra.

At first, she considered looking for Relm, but ultimately decided to leave her alone. Perhaps journeying with her own realm's comrades made them all feel like fully grown adults; and this included the sassy ten-year-old painter. On her way west, she didn't see Palom and Porom, but perhaps they wouldn't be very childlike. After all, those two had their 22-year-old minds stuck in their six-year-old bodies. So instead, she kept wandering until reaching the Three's encampment, carrying a listless look on her face as she moved. She may have had responsibilities to get to today, but she felt that this was more important.

Luneth, Arc, and Refia sat in a circle, chitchatting about. Luneth was actually a bit more mischievous than others gave him credit for. He seemed like such a quiet boy at first, but his spirit was fiery. It was Arc who was the gentle one in the group. But when it came to hotheadedness, Refia certainly took the cake for that zone. Whenever Ignus wasn't around, perhaps there was no one levelheaded enough to balance them out.

To Terra's chagrin, the Onion Knight wasn't in sight. That boy in particular was very receptive to Terra; surely _he_ would have kept her company. She wondered if he was out on mission; as he was deemed fairly useful to Tyro many times (Though, it's possible Tyro was showing favoritism for one of his closer friends). But as she walked through the base, Terra felt that the children here was probably too _old_ to soothe her aching heart. Age _was_ just a number though, as Luneth and his friends were a few years _older_ than Larsa, yet Larsa was more mature than most even twice his age. Thinking on this, Terra moved on out of the camp.

The day was warm, and the grass swayed gently in the breeze. Terra walked slowly and aimlessly, her red boots would likely begin to hurt her feet. She looked at her surroundings. She'd walked in a large circle, turning past Zone III to the Nightmare Dungeons, then turning again toward the Event Warps. Then back again toward the zones. Inexplicably, Terra noticed something very small moving in the distance. Curious, she moved toward it.

It was Eiko, digging in the dirt.

"Eiko? What are you doing?" Terra asked, a bit hopeful.

"Hi Terra," the child responded, keeping her attention to her work "I put something in the ground, but I can't quite remember where..." As she spoke, Eiko seemed a bit hesitant to share. But Terra pressed the subject-.

"What did you hide?" Terra asked. Eiko was silent for a moment, continuing to dig.

"A Dark Matter," she said finally, "It's... it's not like Tyro was using it..." Which was true. Tyro never had any use for lower-quality Dark Matter; in fact, even ones of major quality he only rarely needed.

"Well, _why_ did you bury it?" Terra asked. At this, Eiko looked up at Terra curiously.

"What? Why _not_? _Duh_!" Eiko looked perplexed, like Terra had asked a stupid question. But Terra looked back at the child and began to cry. Terra wasn't _insulted_ or something, rather they were tears of relief. Eiko was so _cute_ , she was _exactly_ who Terra was looking for. The six-year-old was admittedly much more mature than any other child her age should be, but she was still so much more childish than other kids in the realm.

"H-Hey! Why are you-! Don't cry!" Eiko screeched, "Terra! We-We're grownups, so we don't cry!" Terra was only becoming _more_ moved at the sweet girl. This made Terra miss her children even more, but... Terra wrapped her arms around the dirt-covered child.

" _What the-_ What's the big idea!?" Eiko scrambled. But Terra wasn't budging from her embrace.

"I'm okay, Eiko," Terra replied, still tearing up, "It's just... You're so _great_ , you know that?" At this, Eiko stopped struggling.

The child wasn't sure what was going on, but her natural empathy within her made her decide to return Terra's hug. Small arms held the quivering woman.

"... 'Course I know that," Eiko mumbled, "But you're great too, okay Terra? So no more crying." Eiko patted Terra's back, using her sleeve so as not to leave dirt on the woman's sheer clothing.

"It'll all be okay," Eiko soothed. And Terra was able to have a good cry. Surely her children would be just the same when Terra got back, she left them in good hands after all. And even here, Terra could feel _love_.

* * *

 _Zone I  
_

Princess Sarah was _nervous_. Some of the other girls were quite catty at the tea party today, and pushed Sarah into trying to progress in her relationship with the Warrior of Light. Though honestly, 'relationship' was the biggest overstatement of the year. Sarah had maintained that she and the Warrior had romantic tension, but nothing ever happened and no words about it had been said. However, this was a _lie_. There wasn't even any tension. The Warrior of Light was a complete gentleman; he didn't even give a _sideways glance_ at Sarah's more... _form-fitting_ dresses. Hell, he wouldn't say a word if Sarah switched her hair from blonde to sky blue to _pink_!

In the beginning, upon reaching Cornelia for the first time, the Warrior of Light did what he could to become a grunt soldier in the royal army. However, he quickly moved up to becoming a Brigade Captain, despite being seen as much too young by his peers. It wasn't until later, when Sarah really took notice of him; when the Warrior left his post to lead an unsanctioned group of citizens to save her from a kidnapping. Those four moved on to eventually _save the world_. But, afterward Sarah would discover more about the Warrior's origins in the Conflict of the Gods.

"Princess~ What are you doing staring off into space?" a voice asked. Though Sarah didn't see the source immediately, she had no trouble recognizing the voice of the little fairy.

"Greetings Echo. I apologize if I seem... distracted," Sarah replied coolly, "Did you need something?"

"Nope! Nothing at all!" Echo chattered, floating up to eye level with the princess.

"Then excuse me, I am actually quite busy," Sarah said.

"Busy!? Busy doing what? You aren't doing anything! I'm just trying to be _neighborly_!" Echo pouted. She wanted some attention and her favorite Blank was trying to get some sleep in his tent. So Echo was merely checking in. At this, the princess was annoyed, but didn't want to come off as rude. Out of guilt, she fell for the fairy's goading.

"I... I'm thinking of asking the Warrior of Light to... spend some time with me," Sarah mumbled. To her chagrin, the fairy immediately burst out laughing in response.

"What!?" Echo cackled, "That stiff? Does he even think of anything other than fighting and 'the light'?"

"And besides that, _why_!?" Echo continued to giggle in-between speaking, "He's not even _human_. Does he have all the necessary parts to be with a woman!?"

Sarah became irritated, but held her tongue. She was not so immature as to get defensive. And, in fact, Sarah hadn't considered that. What if, as a manikin, he wasn't actually a man? What if his lack of attention for Sarah had a simpler explanation to it? At the same time, though a bit discouraged, the princess only felt it _more_ necessary to try and talk to the Warrior. Or at least ask him for a name to call him by; she couldn't keep calling him 'Warrior' and 'Captain' all the time (though to be fair, he deigned to call her by name as well, only calling her 'Princess').

"Here!" Echo started, "Let me go get him!" She laughed. This immediately startled Sarah, her face turning pale.

"N-No! Wait!" Sarah stuttered, "M-My heart's not prepared! Echo, wait wait _wait_!"

" _Heeheehee_ ," the fairy laughed as she flew out of the tent, "I'll make sure to leave you two alone, so tell me _all_ about it later!"

Internally, a part of Sarah was a little excited, a little anxious. But mostly, she _cursed_ that damn pixie. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, but she made sure not to show it on the outside. She did her very best to keep up her prim and undaunted facade. But upon hearing a rustle at the front of her tent, she did let a tiny yelp escape from her lips.

"Princess, did you call for me?" the Warrior of Light spoke, there was a light sense of worry and duty in his voice that stabbed into Sarah's beating chest. Blushing, the woman closed her eyes and turned to face him.

"I did. First of all, while we are alone, you _must_ call me Sarah," she ordered. It was a leap, but she felt that perhaps taking an authority role would better resonate with the man. And she was right.

"Yes, milady," the Warrior responded earnestly, "Then Sarah, did you need something else?"

"Next, it is important that I... have a name to call you by," the princess stated. She said this as though it were obvious, simply a matter of _fact_.

"I see," he replied, not missing a beat, "What would you like to call me?"

'Did anything faze this man?' she wondered.

"Don't you have any suggestions? I'd like it to be a name personal to you," Sarah requested. At this, the Warrior of Light was thoughtful for a moment. Sarah felt this was a good sign. Perhaps they would beat their record for conversation with each other; which likely stood at only a few minutes.

"I... I'm sorry. I don't really... have anything like that," the knight smoldered, "Echo calls me 'Won' but... perhaps Cid? That was my sort-of father's name."

"Cid will do for now, then," Sarah gleamed. This was going relatively well.

"Are you certain? It may be a little confusing as there are a number of other men with that name in this realm," the man responded.

"Not to worry," Sarah assured him, "Whenever _I_ say Cid, it will only be in reference to _you_ , understood?" Though there were much too many Cids around here, Sarah didn't really interact with any of them, so she didn't see this as becoming a problem.

"Understood, Sarah. From now on, you may refer to me as Cid," the knight said. He didn't seem too excited, but in truth, he was a little happy.

"Now then, Cid. I have to know, why are you following my instructions?" Sarah asked, "As the zone leader, you are actually my superior, are you not?"

The Warrior of Light blinked at this. He found it only natural that he follow the princess's orders. He didn't even question it. Isn't that what a knight _does_?

"I... I'm not sure," he answered, a little astonished, "I never thought about it before." Sarah now began to feel that she'd been flustered about this man for no reason at all. He was kind of an _idiot_ , though she knew so too was she. And she was told that this was pretty much inevitable in _all_ romance (as idiocy is to be human). This conundrum was kind of frustrating.

"Well then, would you like to stop following my orders?" Sarah asked, "You're free to do so, you know."

Once again, this interrupted the Warrior of Light's intense gaze, and he blinked at the princess in bewilderment. The man pondered for a moment more. The small part of him that _actually thought ahead_ was about to wonder where the princess was going with this, but he had too little information and too little understanding for it to go anywhere.

"No, if you have something you need of me, please do not hesitate to ask," the Warrior said finally, "It is my duty to ensure you are comfortable to the best of my ability."

"On whose orders?" Sarah asked, a little perplexed, "Are you doing this because of my father? My kingdom? By whose authority is that your duty!?"

"On mine!" the Warrior answered, "It is _my_ will that it be done, and so I will do it."

The man noticed multiple emotions passing through the princess's face, but he didn't understand why. Instead, he waited for them to abate and settle on whichever they would be. Throughout the conversation, the princess was uncertain, then mischievous, then defensive, then stupefied, and now... embarrassed? He wasn't sure. But, she put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

"Good sir..." Sarah mumbled, "Cid, I am weary now. Carry me to bed?"

At this, the man slowly moved to take her hand. Instead, she swayed over and leaned against him. The knight took her full weight on his chest, and in a single fluid motion, she was in his arms, bridal-style. He strode to the other side of the tent and lay her down on her bed.

"Will you sit here, until I fall asleep?" she asked.

"Of course, Sarah," he said. Sarah could see the the hint of a warm smile appearing on his face, and a corresponding warmth grew within Sarah's breast. Today, they had made a lot of progress, and Sarah was happy enough to drift off to slumber quite quickly. The Warrior of Light knew she had already fallen asleep, but something deep inside him wanted to stay by her side and look on at her peaceful face for just a bit longer.


	17. A Mess of Mind

**A Mess of Mind**

 _Realm X_

Tidus walked alongside Tyro awkwardly. Sure, Tidus had been a hero record longer than _most_ of the others, but there was nearly never a time when it was just the two of them _alone_. And even then, at least the two would engage in lighthearted conversation. But now, it was silent.

Tyro ambled forward at a normal pace, but his legs were so short that each stride covered only half the distance of the blitzballer's steps. Above them, the night sky displayed a beautiful, starry sight. This was odd, because of all the light-pollution from artificial illuminations in the city around them. Zanarkand was booming with raucous crowds as the thrilled populace celebrated their lavish plenitude. But Tyro and Tidus walked away from the herds of people; they stood in the shadows of towering buildings and bridges.

Tyro was busy thinking, observing, but Tidus had a difficult time being quiet for this long (which was for much longer than anyone would expect of him). The young man didn't want to interrupt the thoughts of the boy-commander, but he was nearing his wit's end. This left Tidus alone with his _own_ thoughts. This was something he didn't enjoy; mainly because of where he was.

He was home, in Zanarkand, all over again. There were so many things he wanted to _do_ here, that he never got the chance to do the rare times that he re-entered this realm. Even if it was just a memory, even if Zanarkand was just a dream, Tidus wanted to at least stop and admire the twin monuments in front of the blitzball stadium. Or... to reassure a fan in the audience; because soon... everyone would be running, screaming, _dying_.

'What, I can't have even a single moment to do what I want?' he thought. It had gotten to the point that finally, Tidus _had_ to say something.

"Hey-" he started, but he was interrupted by the panic vocalized by the denizens around him.

A wall of water was rising up, as scattered voices of fear cried out, growing in number. Through the rising tide, Tidus could see the barrier that surrounded Sin. The huge ball continued approaching, and like a vortex it distorted the city around it. More cries rang out, as the fear throughout Zanarkand was spreading, and the harbinger of doom hadn't even begun its intended destruction yet.

Without warning, energy shot from Sin through the glass of the surrounding buildings. It seemed like nothing for only a moment, before the buildings detonated and crumbled. Now the screams were everywhere. Explosions rang through the sky, and fire rained down with the rubble. Mobs of citizens fled in terror, and everything started to come crashing down.

Out of nowhere came the little boy; the fayth of Bahamut; a tanned child in a purple hood. As he appeared, the events around Tyro and Tidus stopped. Time had halted for a brief reprieve, leaving scared citizens mid-step and mouth ajar, unaware. Even blazing flames were frozen still.

"It begins," the memory of Bahamut spoke. Tidus didn't respond. In reality when this happened the first time, Tidus was curious and bewildered. But this time around it was only sad. Tyro watched the two silently.

"Don't cry," the fayth said. And immediately, the boy vanished, allowing reality to un-pause and continue flowing normally. Before, it was a rude yet mysterious statement. Now... it was fitting. The screams and panic around Tyro and Tidus resumed, and now Sin was sending fiends to rush the city.

Rather than face the weak Sinspawn, Tyro had seen what he came here for. Tidus looked down to the small record keeper tug at the blitzballer's uniform. ...It was time to go. And Tidus too, had seen enough.

The pair didn't flee the scene in any hurry. It was a slow and sullen retreat from the area. With Tyro's hand raised, the fabric of the record's reality bent and a breach appeared before them. Tidus and Tyro stepped through it, ending up back in the hall of Realm Dungeons. The sounds of carnage behind them went mute immediately.

The painting of Zanarkand's destruction rippled like water before settling behind the pair. They were back in the Royal Archives.

Earlier that day, Tidus was a little fascinated at the prospect of going back to that first record. It wasn't something he had done often. And with Tyro's announcement that they would 'change history' by altering the records, Tidus even thought the two might try something. But it turned out to be merely reconnaissance. Tyro had wanted to study the geography, architecture, and culture of the doomed city. Sure, it was only a memoir of a counterfeit, but it was information that Tyro could study closer. When in the chronology was the real Zanarkand? Tyro couldn't tell. He only knew it wasn't the end.

But realistically, what _could_ they have done differently there? What could even be changed? Considering the extremes, what would have happened in Tidus and Tyro had been able to (somehow) kill Sin right then and there? Very little would have been different since this Zanarkand didn't take place in the past at all; it was only a dreamworld. The attack was still after Braska and Auron had died.

Tidus wasn't angry at Tyro for making him see that destruction all over again. But he wasn't happy with him either. Tidus couldn't really feel anything toward Tyro since the boy hadn't spoken a word the entire time. Sorrowfully, Tidus looked down at his little leader. The boy was looking up at Tidus with apologetic eyes. In response to this, the young man crouched down and rested a hand on Tyro's shoulder.

"It's okay," Tidus said, "I'm okay, so don't worry. Alright?" At this, Tyro wiped a tear from his eye and nodded. He'd seen much destruction and pain these past few years. Though he'd read about them beforehand, it never really prepared him for seeing it in person. And he never got used to it. Tyro had had questions, but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Tidus stood back up and looked in the distance. It was evening already. He would probably head home soon. His current home, of course. With Yuna. And the others. Many of them understood loss and were there for him like family. But none of them could quite fill one specific void in Tidus's heart. One that only denizens of Zanarkand, might understand... even if they were dreams. He'd spent the majority of his life in that world; learning and loving people. Niklas, Verna, Reid, Feliks, and so many more... Teammates and girlfriends and even the children that were rooting for him in the stands. And now Tidus was beginning to forget more and more of their names. It was almost like to the universe, _none_ of them mattered.

He pushed the emotions down. When he looked back at Tyro, the boy too had been deep in thought before making eye contact once again. It was more melancholy than either of them were used to. Tidus showed a soft smile to the boy and gave a half-wave half-salute. They both turned and walked on to go their separate ways. But when Tidus was far enough away, he sped up.

Tidus was now running back to camp. Running made it easier to stop his thoughts. This way, he was just a creature of emotions, without direction. But his feet knew the way; after all, it was a straight line home.

Nearly there, his legs began to feel more and more like lead. He was exhausted, not physically, but emotionally. With bated breath, he looked down at his feet, still slowly trudging forward. One foot in front of the other. He couldn't see his tent yet, but his eyes weren't really looking. Faintly, he could hear a haunting trill around him.

"You too..." a raspy voice spoke from beside him. Tidus stopped moving, and lowered his head. He was in no mood. His curiosity was dampened by his drained temperament. But was starting to feel dizzy, heavy. Tidus slowly turned his head to face a familiar figure in black. The young man was beginning to lose consciousness as the dark figure approached him slowly, while simultaneously removing his headgear.

"You will know a _new_ pain..." the man continued.

Tidus was blacking out, but he could still hear the man speak.

"But if you can... remember that your _justice_ -"

Though the man was coming closer, it seemed like his voice was only getting further away. The mystery man knelt down over the now-falling blitzball player.

"-and your _retribution_... are but _trifling_ things _._ "

A pale face. Silver hair. Cold eyes shining through the darkness for that last moment.

* * *

 _Library_

A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the halls as a young Turk beheld a terrible scene.

Elena came to the library expecting to gather information in peace and solitude. Instead what she found was a _nightmare_. Books and shelves were strewn about or _destroyed_. Tables were turned over, and parts of the carpet were singed _black_. But worst of all, a white rabbit lay in the center of the room, over a damp section of the carpet that she assumed was wet with _blood_. The rabbit's fur was burnt in several places, leaving scalded pink flesh bare. He had been wearing a vermillion cloak over his clothes, which were now all stripped or torn, and rabbit's glasses were left _shattered_.

Elena didn't know him, but this was Namingway, a beloved friend of Tyro and Dr. Mog. Still, she didn't need to know the poor creature for it to be a _grisly_ sight to the woman. She had seen death and destruction before, but this was a cute, little _bunny_ _rabbit_. This was downright _cruel_ ; enough to make a grown man horrified. Still distressed, Elena rushed over and carefully checked the creature's vitals. His breathing was shallow and quick; pained with every breath. But Elena didn't have anything to _heal_ him with. With a sprint, she was out of the library and looking around for help in a frenzy.

A few other records had run to the direction of her scream. Among them were Edge, Terra, Fran, and the Blank. But they none of them were _healers_. Or at least, she didn't _think_ they were, she was still _new_ and only knew the white mages she'd met at the tea party.

" _P-Please_ _!_ " she sputtered almost hysterically, "A healer, come quick. Please help!" Immediately, the group dispersed, looking for a healer. Terra _wanted_ to help, but she wasn't equipped with any healing magic at the moment, nor did she have any healing soul breaks. Elena fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't see something _cute_ dying like that. Sure, she was a killer, and could probably watch ten men executed by firing squad without flinching (or even kill them herself), but seeing _one_ run-over animal on the freeway might _crush_ her, _haunt_ her, and turn her inside-out.

It was Y'shtola that was first to the scene, running alongside Noel.

" _Who needs help?_ " Noel shouted, running toward the crouched Elena. She didn't speak, she just pointed at the library, still covering her eyes. Without stopping, Noel and Y'shtola dashed past her into the library, a couple of other records coming along in the distance.

Upon entering the library, the pair both gasped at the sight of Namingway, wheezing and fading before them.

"It's... Namingway?" Noel was surprised. Because Namingway wasn't a hero record, he was uncertain whether the creature could be healed. More importantly, he wasn't sure what would happen if it _died_.

At the same time, the miqo'te wasted no time in kneeling down to the creature and beginning her incantation. She too wasn't equipped with any healing magic, but the adrenaline was enough to build up a soul break. Green streams of light swirled around her, and in a short moment she was finished chanting. Terra walked in, the sight made her cover her mouth in horror, a small cry escaped her lips as she gasped. She was even more sensitive to this than Elena; and Terra had had time to get to know Namingway a little.

Now ready, Y'shtola quickly raised her hand and emitted a field of _Medica_ _II_ that spread outward around the group. Though the fully healed hero records were unaffected by this, Namingway's burns closed and faded before their eyes. Though he was drastically healed, he still looked like a trainwreck. His mortal gasps were now slowed and resting. This would be enough to save his life, but they wanted to do more for the little rabbit man.

By now, more records had reached the library. It was Fran who walked over to the two sitting over Namingway, saying nothing. Gingerly, she lifted the little man into her arms and carried him out of the library. Fran had brought Vanille, who began channeling a _'Miracle Prayer'_ as the two walked out of the library, toward the medical wing. Edge had brought Beatrix, and joined Y'shtola and Noel in looking around the room.

The damage was chaotic. If either of them were actual record keepers, the loss of the various texts and tomes would have been heartbreaking. But instead, they were puzzled. To their knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before.

It was Terra who was ready to burst. She was still standing in the doorway, having barely moved an inch since entering the room.

" _Why_ _?"_ was all she whispered. She held onto the door frame to hold herself steady. Turning, she wobbled back outside, over to the still-crouched Elena.

"What happened?" Terra demanded (or, at least, as close to 'demanded' as someone as soft-spoken as Terra could give off).

"I don't know," Elena mumbled, "I just got there and immediately called for help..."

Elena's mouth was dry. She wasn't ready for this. And Terra could tell she wasn't lying. Elena's shock was genuine. Now ready to be alert, Terra straightened up and looked at the records around her. The ones investigating the library had exited.

"We did not find anyone else in there," Y'shtola enunciated, "Nor anything else that revealed the truth of the matter."

"I'm certain it was a mage," Beatrix declared, "The damage was done by the recoil of fire and ice."

"But there are so _many_ spellcasters here," Edge finally spoke up, "How would you be able to figure out which one?"

"I will call Matoya to divinate the scene," Y'shtola answered. With only a touch, the old witch could use her psychometry to read the circumstances around any object; this included the floors and walls.

"Is it a good idea to trust her?" Edge remarked, "The Firefrost Chant from her Inner Eye could have easily done this."

"Watch your tongue, knave!" Y'shtola barked, "I will not have you insulting Master Matoya." Edge immediately shut up at this. Beatrix stepped forward.

"Spread out," Beatrix ordered, "See if you find anything unusual." At this, the crowd dispersed to investigate the area. The woman wasn't a zone leader, but she was given almost as much respect as one.

Something was going on, and they were all in the dark about it.

* * *

 _Hey all! I've updated pretty much all of the earlier chapters with juicier conversation. So if you were one of the previous readers, you can check back on notably more shipping moments and fights than the original versions! Now it's time to look to the future, since I can finally get to the darker stuff. While before, some chapters took place days after each other, these next few will probably all happen within the same few hours. So while the story pacing is ramping up, the actual passage of time will be slowing down.  
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 _Follow, favorite, review, or recommend me around, and I promise to update quickly!_


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